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Rudo was twelve the first time it happened.

Well,  no, maybe that wasn't the entire truth.

The thing was, when you’re a kid, it becomes hard to differentiate between which actions of yours can be categorised as juvenile or simply normal for your age. 

So, when Rudo was a mere ten years old, for example, him breaking down and crying like a toddler didn’t seem much too out of the ordinary — he seemed younger than he was, felt younger than he was, but he was still a child, so who was he to tell the difference?

Premature, maybe. Perhaps that was all. A slow growth, mentally rather than physically.

His dad had been the same.

Regto wasn’t blissfully ignorant to the way Rudo’s behaviour seemed to drop when things became a little too much, a little too heavy.

Rudo was a kid with more emotion than the average one, so really, it should make sense for him to lash out the way he did, at least for a while. Only, while he got older, the way he reacted to those strong feelings never faltered.

It was unusual, Regto could acknowledge that much.

But even then, he carried the same dilemma — because his son was still a child, so who was he to tell the difference? None of them could.

Rudo didn’t know what made that one incident different. 

To his credit, he barely remembered anything from the night. 

Rudo remembered blood pouring over his vision after trying to crack a hole through to another world with nothing but sheer determination — he remembered how much his hands ached but how the pain from the gash above his eyes saved him. A new pain to focus on, something that he had control of.

Unfortunately, Rudo never succeeded in finding another dimension with the help of his skull. 

He’d tried for many years, and would continue for more to go. 

He’d never find the universe he searched so desperately for, one where things were just a little different, the smallest bit even. Maybe one where his hands didn’t hurt, or maybe one where people didn’t know him as a murderer when the only thing he’d ever killed was the hope for a peaceful future — for himself.

Even when years happened to pass, and Rudo’s age was meant to skyrocket, it only ever seemed to regress. Turning fourteen was scary, it had been an overwhelming day and then .. then Rudo wasn’t even sure he was fourteen anymore. 

It was a constant imbalance, something he knew in the back of his head there was an explanation to but, frankly, he refused to listen. 

The kid couldn’t tell you why, not really. 

Because the word regression gave him a bitter taste in his mouth? Maybe, yeah. Maybe because words such as little and regressed were a heavy weight on his shoulders that he wished to brush off, because they meant what they did. That Rudo wasn’t developing, in skills or personality — he was regressing, or whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

He knew that word was only for specific episodes, for situations his brain didn’t know how to handle like the big boy he was, but he didn’t care. He hated it anyway, the meaning behind it, the intent, the contempt. 

When his dad died, Rudo handled it like a big boy. 

For once in his pathetic, horribly long but hopefully short life, Rudo didn’t lay down and cry until his brain felt much smaller than the rest of him. 

Not for a while, at least.

Then he met Enjin.

Zanka and Riyo too, he should mention. He did live with them, which made them important enough to be considered a valuable fact.

— And the fact that at some point along the way, they became more than people he lived with. At some point, if someone were to ask him ‘do you have any siblings?’ the answer would be yes.

In fact, Rudo met a lot of people. Enjin had quite the handful of friends but, even then, no one else had the same little scent of safety that Enjin managed to carry. 

Some came close — some came very close. Gris, for one. 

With his words that cut a little too deep and his gaze that carried just a little too much care for someone like Rudo to be able to withstand the power of. He soaked in it, basked in having someone care that way, even if he didn’t show it. He’d always retreat from it, because none of them were Regto.

Except, as much as Regto would always be his dad, his understanding of who to seek comfort in changed. Because Regto was gone, but somebody else was not.

“None of them were Regto,” slowly became ..

‘But they were never Enjin.’

What was different about Enjin? Rudo didn’t know that either.

Rudo never knew anything.

He knew that sometimes the older man would drop his sarcastic attitude for a split second to let his gaze linger on the boy he’d recently picked up like a scared cat behind an alley — he studied Rudo like one would a frightened beast.

To figure out what triggered him, because no boy with so much rage could’ve had it easy. 

Rudo was an angry kid, and he always had been. He was angry at the world for blaming him for things he couldn’t control, he was angry at society for having the beliefs it did, he was angry that his dad had been murdered. 

But most of all, Rudo was predictable. He was angry at himself. 

For being weak, maybe. 

For losing himself to a headspace that made him unable to function like the adult he was slowly supposed to be, probably. 

For not being able to cry when Regto died because he was so angry that there was no space for sadness. To mourn or to wallow. 

So Enjin assessed him.

What triggered Rudo’s emotional outbreaks, the anger meltdowns and ( as much as he hated to word it that way ) his toddler tantrums. Because that's what they were, there was no other way to put it.

The kid would stomp and his expressions looked more like a pouty child than an angry teenager, in those moments, Rudo didn’t swear as much as usual. He still swore, and quite a bunch too, but not with the same extremity.

A lot of things triggered him — sometimes, they were big and predictable things. An adult he cared for getting hurt, someone yelling at him, his arms hurting, when he failed at something.

Sometimes, it was less predictable.

A certain smell, a glance at some junk, a nickname that Enjin had used since he first met Rudo and didn’t know his name, except maybe he said it a little too softly that time and maybe he didn’t have that sarcastic look in his eyes. 

You okay, kid?

Some things were unavoidable, but Rudo was good.

A good kid, Gris had said over dinner, and Enjin agreed. Rudo was good, good at hiding. 

His so-called tantrums weren’t outbursts, he didn’t cry and scream, but he’d spit an insult and storm off, yet no matter how horrible some nights seemed to be, Enjin never caught the kid cry even once. Not even after he took him in. Not even after he woke up to Rudo awake, sitting on the couch and shrugging - with his clawed up arms - it off with a “was just a nightmare.”

Enjin didn’t get it.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t equipped to fill the space Rudo’s prior guardian had left, but he was something. A big brother, at the very least, a trust-worthy source. He hoped. 

But even before Rudo, he had been a guardian to his two other kids. As much as he wasn’t a father, he considered his kids his kids through and through. So what, sue him for being a little emotionally complicated.

Zanka had anxiety attacks, sometimes. 

They weren’t extreme on the outside — he didn’t sob until his eyes were bloodshot and he didn’t panic or even necessarily hyperventilate, Zanka just curled into a very small ball and sat somewhere suffocating while his eyes went glassy and his body shook like he was entering an active war field. 

It was his version of fight or flight, Zanka froze.

So Enjin knew how to deal with those, and also knew how to deal with panic attacks from his own upbringing, In the rare cases when those happened.

Riyo didn’t freeze, not ever. 

The girl was always on alert, no matter how much she trusted anybody, she’d always have an eye open, ready for ambush. If she felt threatened, she was ready immediately — in the start of taking her in, Enjin had found himself on the receiving end of a stab wound twice. 

So he learned not to wake her up when she was sleeping, no matter what.

The similar thing between his kids was that they were all quiet. 

In the specific, broad genre of trauma responses, they were silent as mice. Zanka didn’t breathe, Riyo didn’t waver, and Rudo didn’t speak. 

Enjin learnt how to deal with two of those, and he thought he learnt how to deal with Rudo’s call and response to triggers just as well. Zanka needed someone to talk while his brain ran at two hundred miles an hour, Riyo needed space until paranoia wasn’t clouding her judgement, and Rudo needed to be reassured nobody was leaving.

And, well. Enjin was not wrong.

Rudo did need to be reassured, it was just fairly impossible to get him to listen — because his anger was all-seeing and convinced him no one would stay with a kid who was nothing but fury. No one wanted an angry child.

His big brother did, but his big brother didn’t know how to get him to understand that, so Rudo often got lost up in his own spiral until he silently came back and pretended it never happened.

Riyo always came back too, but she’d hug Enjin and apologize, she’d murmur a ‘I know you’d never’, and every time, he wanted to press a kiss to her head and remind her that she couldn’t know. He knew, but Riyo would never be able to like he did. 

Rudo didn’t apologize for the things he said, and he didn’t hug Enjin.

That was okay too, he was his own person, and he had boundaries like anyone else. Enjin was usually able to tell insult from injury, and rarely cared at the nasty words spat in his face — when he did, if Rudo managed to get a suckerpunch in, then the kid would spend a little extra time by Enjin’s side and that was his way of apologising.

It was enough, was what Enjin was trying to say.

It was just.. hard. 

Difficult.

Because he never knew what helped, Enjin never fully understood how to help Rudo because the kid insisted he could do it himself. 

But there was something.

Enjin was not dense.

Working in a dangerous field meant that he saw plenty of coping mechanisms and trauma responses, and knew most of them like the back of his hand — so when Rudo seemed to slip on his feet, and his eyes became just a little more clouded and his posture loosened like a child with lack of autonomy, Enjin resorted to his friends.

“Do you think it’s like with Guita?” Gris crooked an eyebrow, carefully sipping on the last bits of his beer while Enjin finished his third glass of whiskey. “Bro said she.. there was a word for it, I’m sure.”

“Regresses.” Enjin answered for him as he swallowed the liquor, when he finally placed the glass down.

Semiu shot him a look, gently twirling her own glass around, icecubes clinking against each other until Gris erupted again.

“Yeah!” The man in front of him nodded enthusiastically, like this was a good thing. And maybe it was, maybe knowing what happened to Rudo when he stormed off to his room was good, but that didn’t mean Enjin had to like knowing his kid slipped so far. “I don’t know if asking him would be the best idea, though..”

Enjin snorted, “knowing that brat, he’d lose half his shit if I even asked what was wrong. Terrible at communication.” He waved his hand dismissively, then looked up to search for a waiter, hoping to clog a fourth glass down.

“Maybe he gets it from you.” Semiu hummed calmly.

“Hey!”

They weren’t wrong — asking Rudo about it would’ve been a terrible idea, so instead he dug deeper, tried to gauge things out of him and Enjin practically had his suspicion confirmed, delivered on a silver platter, when he’d been mid discussion with the kid.

“You’re almost an adult , Ru’. We can’t have this argument every single time I ask you—“

“I’m not though, am I?! You- you think I’m some- some useless child! You don’t think i'm old enough to- to know or—“ you don’t think I’m a big boy, do you?

Enjin sighed, “You’re sixteen, you are the definition of old enough to know when you’re being irrational. I’m not saying you’re a grown up with responsibilities or whatever yer thinking, I’m saying you’re too big to be acting like—“

Interrupted once more, the teenager, questionmark, disregarded the true subject of the conversation to yell Enjin in the face until spit splattered, “I said I’m not!”

“You’re not what, kid? Too big to be acting like this? Not a whole teenager?”

“I don’t know I don’t know!”

Rudo had been very obviously distressed and stormed off to his room to avoid the sudden interrogation — which it wasn’t by the way. Enjin hadn’t pushed because he suddenly remembered the sneaking suspicion he had, he was caught up with a brat throwing a tantrum and accidentally stepped on a mine. 

But, things became fairly obvious.

Even a year later, Rudo refused to acknowledge his own coping mechanism, the best word he could get onboard with was ‘small’, and the singular times Enjin had tried regressed or little, he’d completely freaked out. In anger, in shame.

Being small didn’t sound as negative as the others, Enjin guessed, and used that to navigate.

Rudo didn’t always admit when he was small, because even with the mindset of a kid no older than six, he was so awfully embarrassed. Disgusted, too.

When he didn’t wanna admit it, Enjin went in blind, but he did become fairly good at being able to tell when Rudo wasn’t or was regressed. He’d ruffle the kids hair, and usually, a bigger Rudo wouldn’t enjoy his usual ‘kid’ nickname to be dropped to a ‘kiddo’, and would swat the hand away. A smaller Rudo would soak in the touch for a second before he retreated.

It was manageable. Hard, but manageable.

Enjin still never saw the kid cry. Not once.

____________________

Rudo didn’t know what triggered his meltdown when he was twelve, nor did he know what made it different.

Rudo knew what triggered his meltdown when he was seventeen, and what made it different.

At least, he thought he did.

In all honesty, his head was getting more and more foggy with every crash against the wall, but he considered that a fair reason to be a bit forgetful, and let himself off the hook.

He knew his triggers better now, understood which things made his head start to soften and his body loosen, slipping. 

Rudo slipped a decent amount. Not a lot, it wasn’t even once a week, and had experienced going over a month without a hazy blink a few times. 

But, regardless, he knew which big triggers to avoid — sadly, not all were unavoidable, such as nightmares.

Now, Rudo wasn’t necessarily a kid who had a lot of nightmares, contrary to popular belief. He’d found his dad murdered in front of him, which in itself should be enough to plague him with night terrors, but instead, Rudo refused to sleep. So when he finally did fall under, his brain seemed too tired to generate any imaginary thing to distress him, none even left for simple dreams.

He didn’t know if that was fully how it worked, but he stayed up, and he didn’t have nightmares. That was fine. 

When fate wasn’t on his side, however, and he did have nightmares, it never failed to have him waking up smaller than he went to bed — he always woke up feeling like the same child who’d come running to his dad, standing in the doorway, refusing to admit he had a nightmare but needing the comfort anyway.

But Rudo didn’t have a father anymore.

He had a house, he had a brother, a sister, and a guardian. A guardian who, in itself, was an older brother just like Zanka was, but more responsible when need be.

Enjin wasn’t a responsible adult, he was reckless and chaotic, and loud. He was running from a past where he’d been as angry as Rudo, except he’d escaped, and Rudo was always gonna be angry.

Though, it should be noted, that while Enjin wasn’t responsible, he was .. something else, a word Rudo’s smaller brain had no capability of finding. Safe, maybe. Comforting, in a whole different way. 

When his head wasn’t turning on him and betraying him, Rudo only ever saw Enjin as an older brother — but as much as he hated it, when the world felt much bigger than him, there was a faint call of dad. 

Enjin wasn’t his dad, and would never be.

Because Rudo’s dad was dead.

And Rudo was a grown teenager who didn’t need a parent anymore. He had his family, but no parent, and that was fine. It was okay. It was okay. It was all okay.

So okay that when he trashed his head into the wall again, he didn’t hear the sob that tore from his throat, which theoretically meant that it didn’t happen.

Rudo didn’t cry, he’d stopped letting himself indulge in childish behavior after his dad died because Regto was the only person who had felt safe enough to be on the receiving end of a small Rudo, because he’d seen the real small Rudo — his current guardian hadn’t. 

Enjin had only known Rudo for two years, two years, both of which he’d spent never once shedding a tear, never once reaching for the stuffed animal hidden in his closet that he couldn’t quite bear to throw out.

Kiki laid abandoned, like Rudo himself had been.

Enjin had seen him small, Rudo wasn’t stupid. There had been attempts to vocalize the situation, for Rudo to fully admit he was small, but he never said the words, at most he’d give a subtle nod and drift away to his room to let the night pass over him until he woke up like the teenager he was supposed to be.

That didn’t mean Rudo felt safe enough to be small and sobbing, and then let Enjin see. Because anybody else would be put off, be as disgusted as Rudo himself were, and have him out in an instant.

Just like nobody wanted an angry child, nobody wanted a filthy teenager either.

And he was — filthy, that is. He was disgusting for feeling smaller than he was, he was wrong, it was all so so wrong, and if Enjin saw the real face behind the mask Rudo carried, he’d lose him just as well.

Regto didn’t choose to leave Rudo, but he did, and it hurt. 

Rudo just couldn’t deal with it again he just— he just. Couldn’t.

So instead he sat, seventeen years old, though not really, thrashing his head against the wall to force himself back into a normal teenager. An angry teenager, but an angry teenager was better than a filthy one.

The trigger had been a nightmare, but the difference was that this time, Rudo did not have a dad to sob to, to bury his head into the chest of, to beg and scream to not fucking leave because everybody always did and — and why did they?

He hadn’t done anything wrong.

Rudo was angry, he was so angry, but he never hurt anyone. 

That was why he did this, why he banged his head to concussions and blood, because he didn’t want to hurt anybody, but even then, society saw him as nothing more than the child of a murderer. 

Did Enjin see him as such too?

Zanka, and even Riyo? 

Did Rudo’s family perceive him as the child of a cold-blodded killer, with hands itching to corrupt instead of aching to scratch, with angry eyes instead of all the sorrow they carried? 

Maybe.

Maybe they did, or maybe they didn’t, but the fact that Rudo couldn’t come to a conclusion was tearing at his very heart.

But he couldn’t control the ache in his heart, nor the torn sobs of his throat, so he slammed his head repeatedly because that he could control. Maybe he had a killer’s instinct, and his body would wander off to hurt on its own — maybe he’d hurt his da–Enjin, or his brother or sister, but the despair of the thought was much too heavy to bear, too much for the child Rudo was, and rather him hurt than anybody else.

It was all he could do, really.

It was all he’d ever been able to do.

To hurt himself, to self-destruct and avert his eyes when a hand reached out to him.

He didn’t deserve any of it.

He never deserved—

“Ru’, what’s with the fuckin’ nois—oh, what the  fuck?”

Rudo didn’t register the curse behind him, nor the gasp. The child in the corner of the room heard no sound because his head was ringing obnoxiously loud, and his premature logic thought the only way to stop it was another slam.

Two negatives makes a positive, you learn that fairly early in life. 

Anyway, he hadn’t noticed the door creaking open, which resulted in him being laid naked and bare under the eyes of his big brother.

“Rudo—shit!” Zanka rushed forward, eyeing the heavy blood splatter on the white wall more than he eyed his brother, which was bad. Probably very bad.

Rudo himself didn’t seem to notice, his red eyes completely unfocused to the scene he was leaving behind him, even as his brother came by his side, not able to tear his eyes away.

It was just so much, how in the ever loving fuck had his skull not cracked open? It was, it was dripping down, and to Zanka, a man who’d seen more crime than the average nineteen year old, a man who studied medicine, a man who’d seen dead bodies and organs blending together with flesh until it became indistinguishable, this was somehow the most gory thing he’d ever seen.

A blood splatter on a wall — but it was different, wasn’t it?

Because this was Rudo, and Rudo got hurt sometimes. When they trained, sure, of course he did, they all did, but Zanka had never seen him hurt himself this bad and it was leaving a horrible taste of bile in his mouth. 

Zanka had woken up to the sound of noise which was, frankly, an often occurrence. 

Rudo always made a lot of noise, fixing things or doing whatever the fuck he did when the rest of the world had gone to bed, but Zanka was usually good at hopping back to sleep — tonight was just louder, so he’d gone to check, but, but god the blood was everywhere and this was probably very very bad and he should probably go get Enjin because in the two years he’d known Rudo this had never happened and .. and Zanka didn’t know what to do.

His brother would get angry and scratch at himself sometimes like a child, or tug in his hair, juvenile ways to ground himself ( or punish himself, but that was a thought too big to unravel right now ), and Zanka knew how to handle that.

But this—

A sob tore his eyes straight down to Rudo immediately, who had been restricted from his repetitive motion by Zanka’s hand gripping onto his hood. 

Even while slightly panicking and drifting off in the panic, Zanka wasn’t gonna let him hurt himself, that much was obvious. So—

Hold on.

Hold the fuck on.

Zanka felt his eyes widen tenfold at the display. Rudo was crying.

Like, full on fat globs of tears sobbing, curling in on himself and practically choking on every sound that left his throat.

His arms, probably aching and scratched apart, folded around his stomach.

Genuinely perplexed by the sight, the boy could only blink, hoping the scene in front of him would disappear.

Yes, the situation was more extreme than Rudo’s usual angry tantrums, but the crying was so worrisome that Zanka’s first question wasn’t are you okay or what happened but instead—

“Are you sick?”

Rudo whined, curling further in on himself until his bleeding forehead hit the floor of his bedroom, and the dripping blood on the wall only served to join the small smearing puddle.

No answer, and logically, Rudo probably wasn’t sick, but he never cried and Zanka still didn’t know what to do.

“Did— shit, Rudo, can y’look up? Just for a sec, let me check your head.” 

Usually Enjin was the one to handle whatever emotion Rudo was refusing to show, but now he was showing it and instead Zanka was the one to sit with it. He should really get Enjin but he couldn’t exactly just stand up and leave, he was fucking terrified Rudo would go right back to hitting himself stupid.

Still no answer, but slowly, gears seemed to turn within Zanka’s frantic mind.

The tantrums were usually because Rudo was small, so maybe– well maybe.

“Ru,” he softened his voice, like he would to a kid and hoped he didn’t get his shit smashed for it because, if Rudo struck out to hit him, he would probably catch Zanka fairly off guard. Call it brotherly love, or something, but he couldn’t help the way his heart fucking ached at seeing his baby brother like this. 

And Rudo wasn’t really his baby brother, had never been, because even when Rudo was a baby, physically just as well as mentally unlike now, they hadn’t known each other yet.

If he knew Zanka said ‘my baby brother’ when talking about him on the rare occasion, he’d be caught in a fight with the kid, which was exactly why he did it. He loved pissing him off because Rudo was the prime example of rage baitable and Zanka wasn’t much different but definitely not on the same level, so the two often ended up.. disagreeing, for lack of a better word.

But now? Looking at him like this? Zanka’s heart just hurt, and when he thought of his baby brother, it was with a fondness he very rarely allowed himself to feel.

“Ru,” he tried again, his now free hand hovering above the child, and then gently placing it on his back. “Can you please let me look?”

The body beneath his hand trembled violently, like a terrified puppy, whimpering like one too. 

Slowly, so very slowly, Rudo rose, never once letting his eyes meet Zanka’s because they were so wet and full of tears, his face no less, and it was a horrible sight. An angry kid who’d never really been angry — Rudo had always just been a very, very sad child.

And it showed, for once. On his small frame that wasn’t actually small.

He trained well, had gained some muscle over the last two years, and they all ate a valid amount of food, he wasn’t tiny by any means, even in height, but now he just looked the size of a toddler.

“Christ,” Zanka swore under his breath as he wiped bloody bangs away, looking at the beaten skin. “Did a number on ya’self, huh? Think I can clean this up?”

Usually, he’d be rougher with Rudo when he was being stupid, so he had to fight very hard to remember that he was practically talking to a child — at least that’s how he was supposed to act, and he could do that, probably.

“Hurts.” Rudo whimpered, sniffling before his face crumpled again, “‘dunno what’s wrong.”

For a kid, his speech wasn’t too slurred, Zanka actually suspected most of it might have been from the dizziness he was sure Rudo was enduring, but he could understand and that was what was important.

“I know, I know Ru.” He whispered back, trying his best not to punch a whole through a wall. Enjin would have. Enjin wouldn’t have, he’d take this a lot worse but he’d be handling it better than Zanka was. Not because Zanka didn’t give a shit, but because Enjin’s biggest fear after he started picking up kids, was that any of them would be hurt. Zanka feared his family getting hurt, but nobody feared quite like Enjin did. “How ‘bout I make sure this is fine,” he swiped white hair back to have full access to sight, “and then we can get Enjin? Sounds good?”

It was a weak attempt at comfort. 

Zanka had never been good at comfort, nor kids, so excuse him if comforting kids wasn’t his fucking speciality.

The name seemed to crack something in Rudo, though, because he finally met Zanka’s eyes and sniffled again, then— “Dad?”

Huh.

Huh. Shit.

None of them called Enjin dad, and never had. There was some misconception for sure, and they probably all had their personal ideas, but there was a mutual understanding between Enjin’s kids that Enjin was not their father, because all hell would break loose if he was. A guardian he may be, but a father he was not fit for.

Though, it sort of made sense. 

If Rudo was lost in a smaller headspace at current, then Enjin suddenly seemed much older than he was and, was indeed, a fatherly age. If he had picked up any of the kids while they were this tiny, they probably would’ve considered Enjin a dad. 

So even if Rudo didn’t usually see him as such, it seemed only logical his smaller brain would.

Also given his past — Zanka had a sneaking idea that Rudo used to be able to let loose with his feels, to some extent at the barest minimum, and back then he’d had a dad to catch him when he fell apart, but no more. So of course, falling apart like a child but no longer with Regto in reach, his juvenile brain could only search for the second closest thing.

And well, Enjin was that for sure.

Zanka cleared his throat, “Dad?” Just to confirm. Maybe Rudo’s brain hadn’t fully realised Zanka was talking about Enjin, just.. a safe adult, which his brain also connected to Regto. That could be it.

But Rudo just nodded, with his big, wet and sad eyes, and Zanka could really only take so much.

“Yeah? Want Enjin?”

“Dad,” Rudo practically corrected him, like Zanka was supposed to see him that way too.

Which, well. He’s had his fair share of moments, but he didn’t wanna unpack that now! 

Though, when talking to a child,  people often referred to their parents with mom or dad, even though they weren’t theirs — so if Zanka said dad, it wasn’t like he was calling Enjin dad, not his anyway. 

. . . Fine.

“Yeah, yeah, dad. Come on, let me fix this up, hm?”

____________________

Having kids meant never having a completely, peaceful, and safe night. 

Enjin was always alert, much like Riyo, only the difference was he was alert for his kids safety and she was for her own. 

However, thankfully, he had been getting a nice, long rest — never once waking up to the faint sound of banging across the hall. It was a one hit wonder, because Enjin was the sort of guy who would wake up from a gut feeling that his children weren’t alright. The only reason could’ve been that he’d worked himself to exhaustion the past few days, and he’d curse himself for it later on, because he really should’ve woken up the second the first slam was hit.

But alas, he did not.

However, while his subconscious was apparently evil enough to ignore his kid in hurt, it was not nearly as heartless to ignore when a knock came upon his door.

Awaken like a mother who’d never seen war but acted like it the second something other than the very sun woke her, his eyes snapped open. Tired as he may be, he found the energy to groggily sit up and rub at his eyes, “M’up, who–“

Before he could finish the sentence, the door creaked open the smallest bit, Zanka peeking in.

Zanka.

That was unusual.

Zanka was almost always too terrified to fully reach out to Enjin when he needed it, always scared of being a bother or burden, so Enjin was good at seeking him out himself when his so-called dad senses were tingling. Not a dad, but he sure had senses like one.

Regardless, seeing the kid was baffling in on itself, but he didn’t look hurt nor too out of it, which really only made it that much more weird, but Enjin found it in himself to relax and lean back on his palms. 

“Morning, sunshine.” He snorted, not too delighted at being woken up in the middle of the night if nothing was wrong, but seemingly satisfied with his joke about it.

The boy didn’t waver, just looked down behind the door, out of Enjin’s vision for a moment.

Hm. Fishy.

“What’s going on?” He tried instead. Zanka didn’t look upset but who was he to make those assumptions?

“Enjin,” the kid sighed, running a hand down his face. Scratch what he said before, the kid did look upset, he looked worried. Not good, very much not good, but Enjin knew how to keep a calm head in the face of distress, when it wasn’t his own at least. Different situations call for different circumstances. “There’s a— situation.”

That was worded oddly formal, which made Enjin straighten up. 

“What happened? Is everybody okay?”

Zanka nodded, “I— I think? Yeah, uh. It’s Rudo.”

He blinked once, twice.

Then took a very deep breath.

Because it was never Rudo — Zanka was unusual, sure, because Zanka didn’t come and reach out, but he still got worked up and allowed Enjin to help, it was never Rudo because it was quite literally never Rudo.

He never let anybody see, never let anybody know …

Which meant Enjin had to prepare himself to face a death sentence, no dramatic effect needed.

“Zanka,” he started slowly, peeling out of bed and sitting on the edge to remain calm, “What happened?”  

A few seconds of staring went by before he looked down at his side again. Zanka had a few inches of height on Rudo, but something about looking and seeing him not only go him to the waist felt odd — seeing his brother in such a big body when he was anything but big was unusual to his heart.

“He’s– he’s small, first of. I need to say that because otherwise there’s going to be something that’s gonna surprise you and I think if you get surprised that’s gonna be bad.”

… okay.

“Uh huh,” he narrowed his eyes, concern meddling with confusion. The others were not great with telling big Rudo from small Rudo, so that already pulled a trigger alarm in Enjin’s head, but it was the second part of the statement that called for the confusion. “Which is?”

“M’not small,” a voice said behind the door — and Enjin's worry faded a bit. Rudo sounded more pouty than he ever had, which meant he wasn’t hurt ( anymore ) because hurt Rudo didn’t pout, and it also made it fairly easy to distinguish the big and small from each other when he sounded like that. Okay, concern less, confusion more.

“Oh yeah? You don’t wanna go talk to dad?” Zanka hissed in mock, like one would to a younger sibling, but Enjin was caught completely off guard.

He scrunched his nose, a small confused sniffle, and repeated the word to make sure. “Dad?” 

Him?!

Zanka’s head flew to him, slightly panicked, “Yes. Dad.” He echoed the word through gritted teeth, like it pained him to say it but he was trying very hard to deliver a message which—

Ah.

Right. Something that would surprise him and he should probably not show that he was shocked because that would be bad.

Got it.

But that also caused a thought that with, extremity, crashed into him like a fucking train wreck. 

Rudo had called Enjin dad, which all pointed to bad bad bad and very wrong. Because Rudo didn’t show it when he was upset, he didn’t reach out, he claimed he didn’t need comfort, but now he’d called Enjin dad and that was very fucking bad because it meant Rudo was low and was very much not okay.

All concern came back immediately.

Enjin swallowed, and slowly inched forward until he could lean down on the floor, crouching on his feet. He looked up at Zanka, giving a small nod.

He watched as his oldest opened the door, and besides him ( behind him, really. Like a child hiding ) stood Rudo, peeking out from Zanka’s arm that he used to shield himself with, holding onto it with both hands. 

Small, for sure. Smaller than he’d ever seemed.

And he had bandages around his head.

At that revelation, Enjin’s eyes shot up to Zanka with barely contained panic, the guardian instinct going off like a fucking bomb that had been ticking since he woke up — had Rudo been hurt and he hadn’t even woken up by it?

Had Rudo been hurting himself?

And Enjin just.. slept?

Zanka swallowed, “Rough night. Nightmare, I think..?” He looked down at Rudo for confirmation and got a subtle nod, then he looked back to Enjin. “His head got a little hurt.”

Rudo, small as he was, looked uncomfortable being discussed while he was in the room.

Enjin could sympathise — nothing felt worse than not being regarded as your own person, no matter how old you were.

“Yeah?” He asked, this time turning his focus to his youngest, “Does your head still hurt, Bud?”

The nickname and soft tone went straight to the kids head, that much was more than obvious. His eyes got just a little wider, and his stiff position loosened slightly, like he wanted to inch forward and reach Enjin.

He wasn’t the best at handling kids, but he certainly wasn’t the worst. Gris was better than him, and often he found himself wondering if the kids would’ve been better off with him — but then shit like this happened, Rudo referring to him as dad while being so so small, and Enjin found that he couldn’t imagine a life without them.

Rudo didn’t inch forward to reach Enjin, he stayed planted even though he wished so badly to rush over, because he was still scared.

Small or not, Rudo was filthy. He wasn’t a cute kid, even when he’d physically been one, he was dirty and ruined by the sheer belief of society, but his current family hadn’t seen how much of a bad kid he’d truly been.

And now they were seeing.

Zanka had helped, he’d calmed him down for the time being, even if the panic was crawling up his throat faster than it ever had, and he’d helped stop the bleeding — so for now, Rudo’s small and barely-thinking brain chose to consider him safe. Much as he could, at least.

But he didn’t know yet with Enjin.

If he ran to him, if he let the word dad slip even knowing he’d never said that and somewhere in there knowing that Enjin wasn’t, would that be it? Would he be thrown out? Would he be abandoned, and considered worthless in the same way as he once had?

It was a risk much bigger than him, bigger than the world around him.

So Rudo didn’t move.

Couldn’t, no matter how much he ached to.

Enjin levelled him with a soft gaze, soft as he could be with all those tattoos that could look scary to the average child. Rudo had never been scared of things like that — he was only ever scared of eyes.

“Kiddo, do you wanna come here?” 

Weak attempts, all of them. Zanka and Enjin both were blind in the face of a vulnerable Rudo.

He was barely expecting an answer, but the child in a body bigger than he felt looked away shamefully, whimpering a quiet “Can’t.”

Enjin tilted his head, and looked worriedly at Zanka, who shrugged helplessly. 

“Why can’t you, Ru?”

Silence stretched in the room for what felt like years, simply waiting, because bad as they might be, they knew the one thing to not do when anybody was overwhelmed with feelings, kid or not; pressure.

Never pressure.

Small red eyes found Enjin’s own again, and he cleared his throat to hide a small whimper, though it came out useless. His hands fisted and came up to rub at his tearing eyes, the sight endearing. Truly just a small, scared kid.

“M’scared.”

Another look was shared, and this time Zanka crouched down in front of him, gently holding the small hands.

“Nothin’ to be scared of, eh? Look,” Zanka gently nodded his chin towards Enjin, who Rudo reluctantly looked at. His oldest had to swallow before he continued, genuinely worried Enjin was uncomfortable with the term, so he left a small smile in hope of reassuring that really, it was fine. Zanka nodded, “It’s dad, ‘n dad’s totally safe.”

There was something odd about it.

Not bad, not bad at all. 

It was just that Enjin knew Rudo, at his normal— big state, his big age, didn’t see him that way. He wasn’t a dad to big Rudo, just the older brother he was to the others just as much, but to small Rudo..

To small Rudo it was different.

But even then he was still scared — because Rudo had always been scared, even when he was just a kid. He’d probably always be scared. Of eyes, of himself.

Small hands that weren’t that small clenched around Zanka’s, and red eyes narrowed, heavy in thoughts that seemed too large for what he could manage at the moment. He swallowed, mulling it over even as his eyes kept watering, and then—

Oh.

Oh, god.

For the very first time, Enjin watched as his youngest broke into silent tears.

Rudo himself barely seemed to register the stream down his face, still caught up in his brain with thoughts and thinking that wasn’t working how he wanted it to — but to Enjin, the world itself seemed to shake apart under him.

An awful sight, was all he could think.

Though a small part of him was relieved too, because maybe this meant Rudo was finally opening up. Maybe this didn’t mean everything was horrible tonight, maybe it was a breakthrough. 

That optimism carried him through the urge to punch a hole through a wall.

Cue Zanka, point in case.

Rudo tried weakly to sniffle away the silent crying, but it was an inevitable failure. He stood exposed and vulnerable, and to either child or adult, that’s a tough situation to be in.

A frustrated little noise escaped him, which was followed by a choked sob.

The kid looked away in distress, biting on his lip to keep whatever else noises wanted to escape buried in his chest. Zanka and Enjin both remained quiet, blind and useless but patient. 

“I don’t— I can’t think, just- everything hurts, my head ‘n- and my- my arms,” Enjin looked at the bandaged arms, frowning at the lack of pressure to keep the pain bearable, “I don’t wanna be bad.”

It was like a confession, small and fragile, ready to break apart in case someone scoffed and shrugged “well, you’ve always been bad, haven’t you?”

But Rudo was never bad — as established as it could possibly be, he was angry.

He yelled, and sometimes he broke things, and sometimes he hurt. Never physically, but with words and with tone, and sometimes he had to be put in his place like the brat he was, but he was no bad kid.

Enjin could only tell him as such.

“You’re not bad, Rudo. Why would you be bad?”

The teenager parentheses not currently dropped his shoulders in defeat of his emotions, eyes glued to the ceiling with short, ragged breaths. 

“I don’t know I don’t know I just don’t wanna be I don’t— I can’t fucking think!”

An experience it was to hear, though Rudo always swore, and Enjin picked up on the fact that while it was less, he still did so when small. But he’d never been so .. so obviously small, Rudo always tried to hide it behind sarcasm and silence, but now he’d been exposed to the world as the kid he was.

And still, something about him was so silent, small sobs wrecking through his body but not making much sound, and tears falling like rain with nowhere to land.

God, his kids were all so quiet.

Maybe he should pull out the real petnames, something about a traumatised kid always got them latching onto those sweet sweet words. He understood it, but he’d never been able to do it so effortlessly.

Enjin just.. wasn’t the type. He wasn’t father-coded, he didn’t have the energy of a comforting adult, he was a big brother who mainly carried energy of a drunk uncle. He’d been compared to that role more times than he could count.

Gris was good at it, the whole.. caring thing. 

The taking care of kids thing.

He could call them baby or sweetheart without making it awkward, while anything soft that tried to roll of Enjin’s tongue instead clocked his throat and made him choke on it.

He could soften his voice and open his arms, but that was all he’d ever been good for. He could talk when Zanka needed the noise, or give space when Riyo saw another man in him, but he could never do much with Rudo — and Rudo was usually seventeen, which, while he still needed the comfort ( traumatised kid and all, we got it ), it was different than had he been the smallest of kids.

But he was now, so Enjin had to adjust.

He had to follow the things he drilled into his head since he got his suspicion confirmed.

The most important thing was, that not all kids were the same.

Neither were all Littles.

Just because they shared an age, or a coping mechanism, did not mean you could go in with the mindset “just treat them how you would a kid” because they were never just a kid. They were still their own person, with their own boundaries.

And he’d never gathered what Rudo thought of touch.

Sometimes he subconsciously leaned into it, and other times he’d spit a ‘don’t touch me’ when he was upset — but he always looked so desperate to be held.

Rudo was terrified of abandonment, and he was even more horrified of judgement. He hid it well, always acting like he didn’t care what people thought, but Enjin was good at picking up on the small details. The drop in his shoulders when someone didn’t care enough about something he’d fixed, or the way his eyes briefly widened if someone made a comment too close to home.

So there were a lot of assessments to take into account when Enjin had to suddenly comfort a small Rudo.

He was reluctant to touch, but he probably needed it, though he’d let the kid reach out himself for that.

He needed reassurement that he wasn’t bad, and that Enjin wasn’t gonna leave.

And.. and Enjin was dad, right now. Apparently. 

Part of him wondered when that’d happened. If tonight was the first time Rudo’s smaller brain thought of Enjin and considered the word dad to be fitting, or if he’d been hiding this for a longer time. It hurt his heart to think about, quite frankly.

He’d never been good at showing the kids affection because, he was not their dad. Clear as day, he was an older brother, but he was still their guardian, and in all honesty, the idea of a small Rudo thinking of him as dad but hiding in his room while being so sad was just heartbreaking.

Enjin could be dad. Sometimes. For a little bit.

He couldn’t do it constantly, he’d fail in an instant. Hell, he asked Gris for help whenever anything bad happened to the kids, whenever the smallest thing came up because he was just so good, he always knew what to do.

But now he had to know, for just a little. And.. and he could do that.

Probably. 

“Ru, bud?” He tried again, hope gleaming in his chest when the kid looked over quicker this time, still holding Zanka’s tired hands with his own trembling ones. “It’s been a rough night, yeah? Do you wanna come here?” 

The hesitation was obvious, so he pressed a little further. He didn’t pressure, just. Just pressed, the smallest bit.

“Do you wanna let dad check your arms and head, kiddo?”

Referring to himself as dad had been the right choice, the winning goal if anything. 

Rudo’s pained expression completely crumbled into tears, and if there had been literally any doubt whatsoever about him being small before, all of that would’ve been out the window that very second.

Fat, thick tears rolled down his face and slowly, he let go of Zanka’s hands. The boy himself smiled silently, happy to have been of help, he always was, Zanka loved being useful, but he also loved his siblings being okay. Rudo wasn’t okay right now, but he could be in a little bit, if he allowed himself the comfort he craved.

And then he looked towards Enjin, swallowing around the lump in his throat until the man opened his arms wide.

Not even a second passed before he had a lap-full of teenager, trembling and aching arms wrapped around his waist and a face pressing tight into his neck — Rudo’s body had practically collapsed in the lunge, legs lazily laying behind him on the floor. His upper body weight was only supported by the weak hold around Enjin’s waist. It wasn’t really that weak, it had all the tightness Rudo could muster to find, it just.. it wasn’t a lot he could find.

But then Enjin sat fully down, spreading his knees to accommodate the smaller body between his legs, and Rudo fell limply into his embrace.

A faint voice in the back of his head told him that from now on, he’d have to be ready to go into dad mode.

That was fine, too. Anything for his kids. 

Speaking of, Enjin looked up when he heard a whisper, only to find Riyo in the doorway, silently conversing with Zanka while a trembling body still lay sobbing in the room.

Riyo frowned when she looked at Rudo, her heart twisting at the sight.

It was such an impossible thing, Rudo falling apart like this. He had a lot of emotional outbursts, but sobbing was never one of them, and they were all dealing with the newly discovered side of him. Small and Terrified, while they’d only ever known Small and Alert.

“Everything okay?” She whispered, tiredly resting her head on Zanka’s shoulder, neither of their eyes leaving their younger brother.

Suddenly, another sob tore from Rudo, and he whimpered the smallest “Riyo”. He didn’t look up from his hiding place with his face buried into Enjin’s sweater, but one hand untangled from the back of it to blindly reach out.

Shock crossed her face, but she was forward in an instant, crouching down besides Enjin until she abandoned the idea and simply sat down completely on her knees, sitting on the heels of her feet. “Hey Ru’, m’here.”

She grabbed the hand that had been searching for her, and the boy made another small noise.

“Woke you up?”

Her eyes ventured to Zanka, who calmly shook his head.

“No, no. Not at all,” She replied quietly, thumb running over Rudo’s aching hands, excuse excuse excuse, find one Riyo, “I—“ she cleared her throat, “I had a nightmare, woke up and heard some noise. Thought I’d check it out.”

Enjin made a grimace, wondering if that was a smart idea to say.

Rudo could think Riyo had come because she needed comfort, and feel guilty for being troublesome — but then Enjin partly wondered if she truly did have a nightmare, and had needed Enjin. She was the one who snook to his room the most, so it wasn’t unlikely. He raised a brow at her, curiously asking through eye contact alone.

Sweetly, she shook her head, long red strands swaying with the movement.

Okay, good. All kids safe and sound, just a little riled up at the moment.

Rudo, however, gently peeked out from Enjin’s chest with a sniffle, one eye staring at Riyo in the dark. It was very dark, Enjin thought. Maybe they should turn on some light.

“You had a nightmare?” He whispered, most of it coming out sounding like a whimper.

And then, Enjin wondered whether Zanka had told her the same thing he told him.

He was doing a hell lot of wondering tonight, that was for sure.

Riyo nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah, they can be a bit scary, huh?”

The body in Enjin’s lap sniffled again, soaking his sweater with those quiet tears of his, and he nodded. “Very scary.”

“Mhm,” She agreed with a nod of her own again, “but now I’m up, and I see that everything is okay. They’re not real, so it’s all fine, isn’t it?”

Rudo stiffened, barely enough to catch it, but Enjin fortunately was in full body contact and instantly realised that something had been wrong, some word hadn’t fit Rudo’s own perception and it was bothering him. The boy sniffled again, a tiny sob, and buried into Enjin’s neck again. “But this one is real.”

A guilty look spread on Riyo’s face, and she retreated her hand when Rudo tucked his own back to himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that Ru.”

“Hey,” Enjin gently swept in, “Everything’s fine. Why don’t you guys go find some gloves and perhaps some painkillers?”

Both of them gleamed, happy to be needed and having something useful to do, and they hurried to go complete the task.

Alone with the kid, Enjin turned his full attention to Rudo.

“What was the dream ‘bout, Kiddo?”

A small whine, then “Dad.”

Enjin had no fucking idea on whether Rudo was calling for him, or replying to his question. 

“It was about dad?” — lucky guess.

Rudo nodded into his neck, “And— and I woke up and I just–“ a sob that sounded genuinely painful on his throat tore up, having him clench his fingers around Enjin's sweater again, “I just felt so— so small? ‘N I got scared and I didn’t wanna hurt anybody, I never wanna hurt anybody.”

His heart broke a little, listening to the desperate words. They sounded like they were pleading for Enjin to believe him, and really, he did. There was also the notable fact that this was the first time Rudo had ever verbally admitted that he was small, which surely had to be progress, didn’t it?

“I know you don’t, Rudo. Course you don’t. Did you hurt your head?”

He worried that asking about the probable self inflicted injury was threading dangerous territory, but to his luck, Rudo just nodded again with another sob instead of deflecting.

“It hurts so bad, everything is so spinny and my thoughts won’t work, and then i- I just—“ small, fast, wet breaths, “just wanted you, but m’filthy and disgusting and—“

“Hey, no no no, bud. Not at all,” Enjin hurried to reassure, because nothing about Rudo was filthy. Well, except for the stench that he reeked with after training, but something told Enjin it was the wrong time to joke about that. “M’right here, baby. Daddy’s right here, promise.”

Somehow, somewhere, Enjin briefly possessed the power to not sound awkward in his comfort, the worlds rolled comfortably off like they were neutral. They weren’t, he didn’t call any of his kids baby because they weren’t babies and didn’t need to be called sweet names ( except, one of his kids was just a baby sometimes ), and neither was he a dad. They shouldn’t have sounded as natural as they did, but he was happy about it regardless.

Rudo seemed to be too, and Enjin didn’t know which part.

The baby part, the reassuring, perhaps just the fact he referred to himself as his dad again, he had no such idea, but it worked.

Not because it made Rudo calm down, no, not at all, but because it made his son just that much louder and more free, not as clocked in his throat and forced under by a boy who didn’t wish to be seen.

It was like peeling apart layers, and Enjin had been doing that carefully for two years now. About time he reached a core.

“Dad?” Rudo sobbed out in question, a call and response, and Enjin’s heart broke within his chest only to plaster itself back together, slamming a bandaid on top.

“Yeah, kiddo. Right here.”

He gently rubbed a hand up and down the back of Rudo’s trembling body, his spine no longer as obvious as it had been two years ago when he’d been practically malnourished, but he was better. He was getting better, and Enjin was so—

“I’m very proud of you, Rudo.”

A curious little noise erupted from the child in his hold, and he wanted to chuckle at it. It was just fucking adorable, all of it. He could feel a small toothache starting to rot his teeth.

“Mhm,” he agreed with himself, “You’ve gotten very strong. A big boy now, huh?” 

It wasn’t said in any way to have Rudo retreat back to an older age, but in the way one would to a child who didn’t cry over a scratch. I’m proud of you, my big boy. That’s my boy. Things a dad said to his kid when he did good, and Rudo was doing good. He was doing spectacular.

“M’not,” he whimpered, whined, “I’m crying and — and messy.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a big boy, or someone to be proud of. It doesn’t mean anything, really.” Enjin shrugged, leaning back against the edge of the bed, “The fact that you’re crying is partly why I’m proud of you.” He spoke to the ceiling.

“Why would you be proud of that?”

A small chuckle, “because, Ru, you never let yourself be, you know? I get that you’re a big boy, and think you don’t gotta cry, but everybody needs to sometimes. I’m just proud, and I’m happy you felt safe to come to me. I don’t really know why, but it makes me happy.”

Rudo shifted slightly, leaning his side and shoulder against Enjin’s chest, still curling in towards him but now a bit more open to the real world. “Because you’re.. dad.”

It was hesistant, like he was scared to say it even though it had been said so many times tonight.

“Yeah?” Enjin smiled, ruffling Rudo’s hair, “guess I am, huh?”

The boy in his lap sniffled, childishly wiping at his nose, and not a single part of him looked the seventeen year old he really was. Not even his physics could save him from how tiny he looked.

Enjin adjusted, pulling at Rudo’s legs so the boy could touch them up to his chest and curl completely into his dad’s side.

“Hate feelin’ like this.” He admitted quietly, a whisper meant for no one but the moon that shined outside, the object of all the secrets of the world. 

And Enjin understood, of course he did.

No one liked feeling like shit, and surely suddenly feeling so small but remaining in a body much bigger than yourself can only feel ten times worse. Horrible, he’d guess.

“Which part?” He chuckled softly, because frankly, all of it seemed to be wearing Rudo down.

The boy shrugged, wiping at the never-ending tears, “Dunno. Small. Just.. filthy.”

His put together heart broke again, and the only thing he could do was gently ruffle Rudo’s hair once more — he noticed faint murmurs out from the kitchen, his big kids getting the stuff ready. Water, warm pressure, perhaps some food.

“You’re not filthy at all, you’re doing very well, kiddo. ‘Kay?”

“Mm…” a weak noise of protest, but mostly out of sentiment rather than genuine protest, so Enjin decided to let it slide.

“And like,” He cleared his throat, running his fingers through Rudo’s white hair that still carried dried blood in the bangs, “nothin’ wrong with being small either. Y’know, Guita feels small sometimes too.”

Rudo let a small sniffle out, looking up at Enjin, “Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah, but I think she does more often than you do. That might just be because I can usually tell with her, and not always with you, but either way,” Enjin sighed, going off course, “my point is that there isn’t any shame in it whatsoever. Ain’t nothin’ to feel filthy ‘bout.”

“So…” He continued when the silence became deafening, “Just, y’know. You can always come to me, kid. Always, eh? Promise ya, dad’s gon’ be right here.”

____________________

It was a difficult adjustment.

Allowing people to know— allowing people to see.

Rudo had always feared eyes.

An irrational belief that if someone looked for long enough, they could see past his barriers and through to the core hidden inside him, which was nothing but the small child who’d been picked up by Regto.

A dirty, angry child.

Rudo sometimes believed the entire world would wake up with clairvoyance, and their first victim of experimenting would be him. Maybe he’d have no idea — maybe they’d simply throw glances at him and gasp to themselves, oh my, how he hates himself.

Maybe his skin would peel off, and underneath would the monster the world believed him to be lay.

Maybe his eyes would fog, and through them, they’d see his father.

Maybe his hands would shake before beating an opponent when he trained, and someone would notice the raging fear in his body upon throwing a punch.

Maybe, Rudo would let himself cry, and they’d all look at him and think, he really was just a brat after all.

Or maybe, the world would turn a blind eye.

“You’re overthinking it.” Zanka sighed, running a hand through his hair as he flopped into bed, reaching out for his phone, “So you have a trauma response, who gives a shit? Everybody ‘round here has one, Ru. Kinda what happens when you’re.. ya’know. Traumatised.”

Rudo fiddled with his hands, his pressure gloves keeping his scars from aching — sometimes his body betrayed him though. When he was stressed enough, he’d find an outlet automatically, which often happened to be through his pre-made hurt.

“Yeah but– yours are. I don’t know. Normal.”

A snort came out from Zanka, who typed on his device, ignoring Rudo’s clearly important crisis. 

“Dude, I start freakin’ out if I sleep without a light. Fuckin’ borderline terrified of the dark. Jab knows it too, keeps a light in his bedroom for me.” Zanka’s lips turned into a small, barely contained smile. “‘S like this, we all have our thing, and our people know how to deal with it. We know not to wake Riyo up when she sleeps, you know not to turn my lights off — and well, now we know to baby your tiny ass when ya need it.”

“I don’t need to be babied!” He instantly protested.

Zanka put his phone down, raising his eyebrows in an unimpressed deadpan, “You don’t want me to go get daddy?”

The boy standing in the middle of the room sighed, trying not to explode, and pressed his lips very tightly together. It would’ve sucked if it wasn’t his family — being teased like this. Rudo wouldn’t have been able to see it for the care it was, for the attempt at lessening his anxiety. 

“You suck,” he huffed, like the brat he was, and threw a pillow directly in Zanka’s face to stop his blabbering.

But .. Zanka was right. 

They all did have their thing.

And Rudo’s thing happened to be that sometimes, the world felt big. 

It took four slips, and two of them had to be breakdowns, before he learned how to get someone by himself. It was terrifying, and the only reason he’d started outright panicking that night was because of the fear that plagued his heart.

But alas, Rudo learned, slowly but surely, and started getting more comfortable reaching out when it was needed.

His problem was that he didn’t always know when it was bad enough to be classified as help needed. Did he have to hurt himself first? Maybe just want to? Or was the second he felt himself slip enough for him to come get his– Enjin.

He still hadn’t figured that out, but he knew to come before he started crashing his skull to ruins now, mostly.

The problem was just that on a particularly bad night, Rudo slipped far.

It could’ve been the thunder, maybe. He didn’t always love thunder, too loud and Rudo hated dangers he couldn’t control, he wasn’t scared of it but he certainly didn’t enjoy it.

It could’ve been the fact he missed Regto a little more than usual, but regardless of reason, Rudo found himself with his arms hugging around his knees and having to take deep, deep breaths.

Actually, the problem wasn’t that he had slipped so far his brain could barely register the true size of his body — the real issue was that Enjin wasn’t home. He was out on a mission, had been since morning, and would be throughout the entire weekend.

Zanka and Riyo were home, but they .. were just a little harder for him to accept help from. Because they weren’t his guardians, they hadn’t signed up to take care of him like Enjin quite literally had, papers and all.

So instead, he remained in the corner of his room, constantly throwing glances at his closet in wonder. In want. In need.

It took him approximately thirty minutes of deep breathing and regulating before he crawled over to the closed feature, pulling it open and searching through years worth of junk before he could pull out that god forsaken bunny.

It was a lost cause, once.

Chiwa had thrown him out — just because she’d decided her trust was misguided. 

He didn’t deserve to be thrown to some eternal abyss of trash cans until he was brought to a trash yard, just because she thought Rudo was a murderer. 

Kiki didn’t deserve to be treated like garbage because the world believed everything they heard.

Neither did Rudo.

But even Rudo himself, upon finding the dirty bunny while out with Enjin, had put him away to a place unreachable to his eyes. Because he reminded him of bad memories? Because Rudo was really pushing himself away just as much? 

He never pulled Kiki out, though.

No matter how many times his fingers itched to hold a bunny as abandoned as himself, he couldn’t bring himself to it — he had no answer to why that was, either. Because it was childish, because he was scared of accepting himself, who was to say?

Rudo never knew anything.

He just knew that he got small sometimes, and when the world fell apart most, he always needed his dad.

But dad wasn’t here, so he could do none but sit and hug a bunny who deserved to be loved but had never had the chance. Not by the people who promised it first, not by the one who found him, not by the one he ended up with.

Maybe the one he ended up with.

Hours seemed to pass within the small confinement his room became, time becoming its own sense of torture as the rain outside only got louder and louder and louder. Thunder struck, and lightning illuminated his space. 

It was only when one of the loud rumbles sounded much too close, and the power turned off, that a bit of clarity flushed through him.

Because power off meant lights off.

Zanka.

Suddenly, Rudo pushed himself up on small trembling legs, hugging the pink bunny unfathomably close to his chest.  

He left his room, gently padding down the hallway until he reached Zanka’s room, hovering before he decided to just knock with his tiny fist. He observed the closed hand gesture for a moment — people often said your heart is the size of your fist, but Rudo’s seemed so small, and Riyo had once said he had such a big heart. Did he really?

A sharp “what?” came from inside Zanka’s room.

He didn’t seem very happy.

But he asked, right? He didn’t tell Rudo to go away, which .. probably didn’t mean ‘yeah come in I’m so fucking talkative right now’ but it still wasn’t a fuck off.

So Rudo swallowed and gently creaked the door open.

His eyes had to adjust to the dark of the room for a second — their hallway was naturally more illuminated — before he could see anything, but when he could, red eyes landed on his older brother with fists in his hair and a tense, curled position.

“What, Rudo?”

The rough tone was enough to make his juvenile self flinch, just a little, small enough that Zanka didn’t notice in the midst of his own situation.

“I just– uh.” The boy stammered, suddenly feeling like he shouldn’t have come, yet all the same happy that he did, given his brother's state. “The- the lights went off and, and I wanted to, make sure…”

He couldn’t force the words that you were okay out, because Rudo had never been good with outward affection, even as a kid, so it didn’t matter how far his headspace regressed, it would make it no less hard to get his thoughts through, if only harder.

Zanka sighed, swallowing loudly, likely having forgotten to while focusing on breathing. Ah, the two really were alike sometimes.

“It’s fine. The power isn’t usually off for long.” 

That was true, but usually when the power went off, Enjin was home.

Rudo stood still for a moment, giving himself a second to wonder on how he could possibly help because, really, he wanted to. It was hard, no doubts about it, but Zanka helped him so he wanted to do the same.

However, his time spent pondering was cut short when it gave Zanka the opportunity to really look at Rudo for a moment, noticing both his stance, demeanour, and the plushie in his grip.

“Ru’, are you fucking small right now?”

Ouch, right with the curse. 

The smaller boy scratched his neck, narrowing his eyes as he thought over whether to answer truthfully or lie so he could help Zanka out, but once again, letting himself think was the wrong move because it only left him open and exposed.

Yes, Rudo was small.

“God, fuck.” Zanka groaned, tearing a hand from his hair to rub it over his face, “Shit, okay.” 

Rudo watched as his older brother got up from his bed and walked over, though he looked just about as unstable as Rudo had when he got up. Probably felt like it, too.

A lot of people thought Zanka was a selfish man because of his apathetic nature. He had a competitors spirit, which meant he kept a front of indifference — vulnerability was a weakness in the field. Not his specific field, but in the genre of training, it was one of the first things you learned. Emotion is raw, and you’re meant to be covered.

His family knew better, though.

Deep at heart, Zanka was a selfless person. He’d sacrifice himself for just about anybody he cared for, which could be due to his lack of genuine will to live. He didn’t care much whether he lived or not, but he cared whether his family did, so he’d happily choose their lives over his.

He also didn’t care much whether he was just okay, so Zanka never put his emotions in front of those he cared about. Those he didn’t could fuck right off, he wasn’t apathetic at heart but if he didn’t know somebody, he’d save them on pure principal, he wasn’t an emotional guy who’d fuck around saving cats from trees in order to make an old lady happy.

Did he see a cat, he wouldn’t mind helping it down, but the only reason he really seeked out helping others was the accomplishment of it.

Zanka didn’t study medicine because he wanted to save people because they deserved to live, they did of course, but his reasoning was simple. It made him good. It made him worth something, it made him proud — so he was a bit of an overachiever.

But all things considered, he’d do anything for his family, even stomp on his own crisis to focus on Rudo’s.

Which meant that even now, when his breaths came ragged and his body broke into a cold sweat, he still hovered close to his baby brother, gently ruffling his hair.

“Is it bad?”

Rudo pouted, swatting his hand away, “s’not ’bout me, I came to check on you.”

Zanka rolled his eyes at the stubbornness, takes one to know one, and walked back to his bed, scooting over so Rudo could come take a seat beside him — he was happy to do so.

“I’m okay, Ru. Just not a fan of the dark, ya’know?”

Yes, Rudo obviously knew, hence why he’d come here in the first place! Did Zanka ever listen?!

That seemed relatively mean though, and was probably something big Rudo wouldn’t have hesitated a damn second to spit out bitterly, but small Rudo simply huffed and rested his chin on his knees. “What ‘bout Riyo?”

“She’s sleepin’, was out partying with some of her friends and came home super late— early? I guess early, yeah.” Zanka shrugged, gently letting his head rest against the wall and closing his eyes, regulating. “Think she’ll be dead to the world for a few hours more.”

Reasonable, he could suppose.

A rumble tore through the house, another close one, which admittedly made Rudo flinch harder this time.

He wasn’t scared of thunder, it was just loud.. and big, and so close. It was overwhelming, and he had no way of stopping it.

His small pale fingers gently played with the edges of Kiki’s ears, feeling the fabric that had once been soft but now was left stiff. Maybe if he washed him, and fixed him up a little bit more .. 

“Who’s that?” Zanka asked from beside him, one eye crooked open and glancing down at the faded pink of a bunny.

Rudo scrunched his nose as he looked at him, black empty eyes looking back. “Kiki.”

“Hm.” His brother nodded, observing for a moment, letting out a sigh that came from deep in his chest. “Cute,” he chuckled quietly, “Did you find it recently?”

“No.” Rudo huffed, eyebrows narrowing in sudden frustration, “I found him when I was…” saying was and fifteen in one sentence felt wrong, so he cleared his throat and covered Kiki’s eyes with his dangly ears, “Almost three years ago.”

A surprised look crossed over Zanka’s face, and he adjusted slightly, hovering closer to inspect. “Huh, he does seem a little old. How come I’ve never seen him before?”

It was a soft question, soft in the way only Zanka could make it because he was never really soft, he always carried that monotune voice that hid his true feelings. He was a man who believed in actions above words — but Rudo could notice the difference anyway, the way Zanka spoke just slightly slower so Rudo didn’t have to drown in the words, the way he hovered close so his volume could be low and calm while still letting Rudo hear him.

Perhaps he knew there was more to it than just some bunny Rudo found. 

“…” He stared at Kiki for an additional twenty seconds before swallowing, and allowing the plushie to see the world again, “.. I gave him to a girl. She threw him out.”

The words were slurred the way a child’s would be, mumbled and stickily put together, but thankfully his family had become awfully talented at understanding his speech even when it became sloppy.

Zanka stared for a moment, this time at Rudo instead of Kiki. Like there was some secret meaning. There wasn’t. It wasn’t— wasn’t like that.

“Yeah?”

Rudo blinked, a small sniffle that he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand as he nodded.

“I found him when I was out wi’ Dad.” Weak slip up, but Zanka already knew he was small, so who cared. “‘N so I took him home but, I didn’t.. didn’t wan’ look at him.”

If he had been a person who felt comfortable with genuine touch rather than just familiar pushes and subtle hair ruffles, Zanka would’ve probably done something right about now. Pull Rudo closer to him, or gently card through his hair — comfort him like a kid should be comforted.

But he couldn’t, Zanka never could, so instead he listened.

Red eyes grew uncharacteristically watery as Rudo stared down at Kiki, deep eye contact with an unresponsive participant.

“.. I wanted to.” He corrected his earlier statement, “so bad, always. Always just wanted to hold ‘im… but he was dirty.” Small tears dripped down, landing onto the bunny’s face, and the sight tugged at both of the brothers’ heartstrings. “But that never stopped me before, I— I work with dirt, with thrash. But he was just.. too much.”

Like how the system worked with kids who’d lost their parents, kids who lashed out, but Rudo always seemed like too much for them.

“‘M holdin’ him and he’s still dirty.”

Zanka frowned, “He’s not dirty.”

“Look at him.” Rudo sniffled, not caring to wipe his face this time in favour of rubbing both his thumbs in circles over the saggy stomach that had once been full of stuffing. “He’s filthy.”

His older brother rested his own head against his knees, tilting it to an angle that allowed him to see Rudo’s downturned face even with the distance. “He just needs a good wash.”

A bitter laugh bubbled out of Rudo, who shook his head.

“I should throw him away. Thought about it.” As much as it hurt to say, it remained the truth. Every time Rudo thought about picking Kiki up, he also thought about throwing him out. “But I just can’t. ‘S not fair for him to be thrown away just because of bad memories, right?”

Zanka’s resolve crumpled, and he sat up straight to gently reach over, placing a hand on Rudo’s shoulder and pulling him to his side.

Their knees bumped together, and his little— his baby brother sniffled, resting his head on Zanka’s shoulder. 

The touch was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

“No, it isn’t.”

“But he was.”

“Not anymore though, right?” Zanka softly ruffled Rudo’s white hair, “Yer gonna take care of him. ‘Cause you’re a softie like that.”

Seconds of deafening silence passed, one boy staring into black eyes, the other switching his eyes between both participants of the oddly intimate moment. Kiki, huh? 

But the silence continued, becoming unbearable to the point where Zanka wanted to squirm and escape the situation. It was still dark everywhere — and helping Rudo was definitely a good distraction, he cared and it also made him feel better about himself, a win was a win, but he couldn’t stand long silences when there were things unsaid.

Zanka in general liked silence, he liked meditating with lovely laying in his lap, purring while he stroked her gorgeous fur, like she herself was part of the routine. She was, by now.

He liked the silence of a long car ride where his sister had fallen asleep, Enjin was in his own thoughts, and Rudo was busy staring out the window. They were nice because there were no words needed.

But Zanka could feel the tension radiating off his brother, horrible and so sad. 

It was agonising to be on the receiving end of, so he couldn’t imagine how it’d be to be Rudo right now.

“… Ru?”

He watched as the boy sucked in a deep breath, then two shorter, quicker ones followed — like no air was enough right now, and then a small sob broke through to the inevitable result that always came with these specific nights. The ones where Rudo opened up just enough for it to break through to a time where he didn’t need to be afraid of crying.

It didn’t happen often, Rudo crying.

So rarely that Zanka’s fingers already started itching, creeping towards his phone.

Enjin was always home whenever it happened, on pure luck — but he wasn’t this time.

“Call me if something goes wrong though, kay?” Enjin said while tugging his jacket on, eyes on Zanka the whole time, who stood calm with his arms crossed, waiting for the older to leave. He didn’t like when Enjin left, none of them did, but the sooner he left the sooner he could come home again.

“Y’know it.” Zanka nodded, “What could go wrong anyway?” He huffed, a shrug.

Enjin let out a quick, disbelieving laugh. 

“Zan, I trust you, but with you kids there are just about a million different outcomes. Listen,” he sighed, turning to his oldest, “all i'm saying? I’m responsible for you guys, it’s like a whole thing apparently.” It came out as dramatic as intended, “being a guardian means you actually have to be like.. a responsible adult apparently. Crazy shit, right?” — back to serious— “but I do my best. Means if any of ya kids need me, you call ASAP.”

Zanka could handle this though. Totally.

Probably not.

He had never fully gathered how to deal with a small crying Rudo, because whenever it reached that point, Rudo only wanted his dad. 

So now, the appropriate question would be— “Ru, do you want me to–“

“I want dad.” The boy whimpered pathetically, face burying into the bunny placed on his knees while his shoulders wrecked. He beat Zanka to the punch, and he instantly nodded, trying to repeat the soothing motions on Rudo’s arm that Jabber always did on him when he was the one freaking. 

He finally gripped totally around his phone, searching for Enjin’s contact.

— Enjin always kept his promises, and he probably wouldn’t have been a ‘give me a call and I’ll be there in five’ if these kids weren’t legally his kids, but he signed the damn papers. He agreed for them to be his, even if his youngest was almost eighteen soon — so when Zanka called, and he heard those faint whimpers in the back, in addition to the worry he’d already been facing with the black out, Enjin was home within an hour. 

____________________

The triggers weren’t always bad.

Most of the time, they were.

That could’ve been because Rudo on instinct tried to fight against his trauma response, so it had to get really bad before he could sink deep enough — but sometimes. 

Sometimes they weren’t bad, and sometimes it wasn’t so hard. 

Sometimes they were mindlessly spending time with his family, and thinking about their statuses as his big siblings. Boom, Rudo was lost to the infinite space.

“Enjin asks what we want for dinner.” Riyo nudged his hip with her foot, comfortably sprawled out on the couch, “Any suggestions?”

Dad?

Rudo blinked and looked at her, considering for a moment.

He came up short, his brain unable to think that far as to search through millions of possibilities and then land on one, so he shook his head and looked back towards the TV, playing through a sit-com that Riyo had intended to watch, then got busy with her phone.

An aching little urge sat in his chest, to watch something else. More simple, less big words.

Riyo sat up slightly, just to reach over the couch and yell out–  “Z! Come out real quick!”

A pause echoed through the apartment before a crash was heard from Zanka’s room, and he stumbled out, hair a mess. 

“What,” he huffed, running a hand through it and straightening his clothes with the palms of his hands. “Did something happen?”

Rudo turned around slightly to look over the couch, eyes ranking over the mess in tandem with Riyo. They both snorted, and Zanka crossed his arms in offense.

“When’d you sneak Jabber in?” She asked, fingers still tapping away on her phone.

The man standing in the middle of the living room blushed awkwardly, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t need to sneak him in, Enjin says he doesn’t care.”

“But you do!” An obnoxious loud voice howled out to him, and Zanka was quick to go straight from sigh to groan, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What’d you need me for?”

Riyo perked up, “Ah, wat’cha want for dinner?”

“….” Zanka blinked, then scratched the back of his neck, “Fuck if I know, uhh. We could get burger? I could do burger.”

Their sister looked towards Rudo, who gave a quick nod, so she started typing to Enjin, muttering a ‘yup, that works.’ to herself.

Zanka was about to head back to his business, though he stopped for a second when he noticed small hands fiddling, a restlessness he knew fairly well.

He stepped over behind the couch, ruffling Rudo’s hair — it was still unfamiliar, but he was working on it.

“You watching this, Ri?” He asked their sister, bending over the back of the couch to reach for the remote, one hand staying on Rudo’s shoulder.

“Hm?” She looked up, glancing at the tv, “oh, nah you’re good.”

Zanka nodded, then looked down at Rudo, “Anything you wanna watch, Ru?”

He hated it.

How easy it was becoming for the others to tell, how he didn’t even have to speak before Zanka would shorten his name to Ru because being full-named felt so big sometimes.

Rudo hated all of it — yet all the same, there was appreciation underneath.

Because to be loved is to be known or something, that was what people said, wasn’t it?

So if Rudo was known .. then maybe he was loved too.

____________________

“Hey, hey. Bud. You were having a nightmare, ‘kay? Totally fine. See me? You’re good, Rudo.”

His little red eyes darted back and forth in the room as his breaths were too short to properly reach his lungs, becoming a repetitive desperate motion.

Nightmares, god. Nothing was worse, it caused him to lose any rational sense, left with the urge to escape escape escape yet he never had anywhere to escape to.

Why was is that having the safety of a home tore all his chances of running straight from his chest? Because, leaving didn’t mean the safety he once thought he did, when he didn’t quite know them all that well, well enough to let them see. 

Back then, running was his tactic, hiding was his safety. 

He didn’t have that anymore, because now his safety was his family, his family that knew him and his tells and knew how to be there when he was haunted by a past he’d never be able to run from like he had them.

Running never seemed to work, so Rudo stopped trying altogether. That just came with an increase of nightmares.

Nightmares that repeated an imaginary of his dads dead face — of being held at a station for over twenty-four hours to be questioned while he lost his mind — of sweet promises his dad had told him but never came true — of words made by the evil spirits who could walk in daylight, who believed themselves to be better because of their heritage.

How was any of it fair? Rudo didn’t choose who his father was, or how he was seen. 

He didn’t kill Regto, but he carried that blame long enough that even when he was found innocent, the outside world became a stage of humiliation for him alone. For eyes to see, for eyes to search, for eyes to stare.

It never stopped.

Rudo always dreamed of eyes.

Whether it was Regto’s lifeless ones, the cops’ disbelieving ones when he said he was innocent, the people from outside, Zanka’s foggy ones the time he got drugged, Riyo’s terrified ones when he woke her up one time and he became someone else within her vision, or Enjin’s soft ones when Rudo didn’t know what to do.

“Kid? 

Rudo swallowed around the lump in his throat, slowly looking down at Enjin, crouched by his bed, one hand holding his. 

Rudo’s free hand was trapped on his arm, nails digging in to find something grounding in a space that was lost to late night terrors. Shadows that didn’t exist, imaginary dangers, past memories that made his heart ache in phantom.

Guilt overwhelmed horror, staring down at a man who was forced to deal with all of this.

With the pure mess Rudo was, and that he always would be.

No words passed in between them for a while, just eyes locked on one another. One in concern, one in unbearable guilt.

He wanted to be angry.

Wanted to prove to himself that he was still the brat everyone believed him to be — wanted to cover the lump in his throat and tightness in his chest with furrowed brows and animalistic growls.

But tonight made it impossible, because what he really wanted to do was cry cry cry until there was nothing left inside of him to ever run out.

“M’sorry,” was the best he could manage through the choked gasp that escaped him.

Fuck, it was happening again, again. It always fucking happened when he had nightmares, it wasn’t his fault but god did it feel like he played part in the blame.

Enjin shook his head, tired as he looked, and cleared his throat. “Nothing to be sorry for, bud. It sounded pretty intense, eh? Does your throat hurt?”

The question brought his attention towards the scratchy uncomfortability clinging to his throat, making him feel that much worse. 

Had he been screaming?

Did he wake everybody up?

“Did—“ Rudo sniffled, wiping at his face with his free hand, not wanting to let go of Enjin’s. It was balled up and useless, childish in it’s own sense. “Did I wake up anybody else?”

“No.” Enjin lied. 

Really, Riyo had woken up first, of course she had, and came to get Enjin fast as possible. Zanka had opened his door slightly, asking a small “Is he fine?”

“A nightmare, I assume. He’ll be okay, just give me a bit.” Enjin assured.

Now he sat, assessing the situation.

Rudo was prone to regressing when he had nightmares, but Enjin knew better than to assume. When the kid already struggled so badly with accepting his situation, he doubted he’d feel good being asked if he was feeling small the second he didn’t feel okay.

Enjin wanted him to understand it was okay for Big Rudo to not feel good too, so he didn’t assume, he waited for the most obvious sign he could get, which was usually waiting for Rudo to address him. Depending on whether he was Enjin or Dad, that usually answered it. 

He only ever called Enjin ‘Enjin’ while regressed if he was trying to ignore it, or didn’t want anybody else to know. 

“M’sorry,” Rudo repeated weakly, swallowing down the sobs that wanted so so badly to escape. He wanted Kiki, he wanted his dad. “I didn’t mean to.”

Enjin decided to push a little further, just to see where Rudo was. “It’s fine, Kiddo. I know you didn’t.”

Seconds passed of Rudo just sniffling, trying desperately not to break into sobs, until the weakest little — “Dad?”

Sure enough.

“Yeah? What’s up, baby?”

It was very rarely Enjin fucked around with using baby for his kids, because they ( as stated ) weren’t babies and it was too .. parental. It gave him too much fatherly aura to just throw around. He used it when they panicked badly, and in Rudo’s case, sometimes when he regressed.

Definitely not always, but he sounded so sad and it hurt Enjin’s heart so much.

“Can you– can you get Kiki?”

Enjin nodded at the request, squeezing Rudo’s hand once before standing up and heading over to the closet. His youngest was getting used to having Kiki around in these times, but when he returned to the stage of the adult he almost was, embarrassment and shame would take over, and he’d put his bunny far away once more.

They all knew exactly where he was, in case of need.

He returned to the bed with a pink bunny in hand, one the whole family had become familiar with, and sat down cautiously. “Here he is.”

Rudo quickly took Kiki in hand, burying his face into the comforting fabric and letting out a quiet sob — one that Enjin would have missed if it wasn’t for the harsh movement that followed.

It continued like that for a little while. Rudo crying in silence, and Enjin waiting until he was asked for.

After some minutes, wet red eyes looked up at him and Rudo grimaced in pain, face still sad and guilt ridden.

“What do you need, Kiddo?”

Rudo sniffled, then whimpered “I don’t wanna sleep alone. m’scared.”

Understandable enough, Enjin concluded.  

So he crawled up the bed, resting his entire back against the wall and opening his arm — Rudo sobbed silently at the invitation before burying into Enjin’s shoulder.

It was fine, it was always gonna be fine for any of his kids.

When the crying calmed down, and the child in his arms seemed to be exhausted both with the prior nightmare and the sobbing, a gentle knock was heard on the open door, his two other kids standing there with soft eyes.

Enjin smiled, nudging with his chin for them to come in.

Riyo crawled in first, coming over to Enjin’s side so she laid closest to the wall, occupying his free shoulder with her head, and throwing her arm over his stomach to grab ahold of Rudo’s hand.

His face was hidden, but he squeezed her hand and they stayed like that.

Zanka came next, coming up behind Rudo and ruffling his hair before adjusting to lay comfortability.

A sniffle came from Rudo, who still didn’t look out, “M’sorry.”

“Shh,” Enjin sighed, a smile on his face. “None of that, just rest, kid. All of you.”

Riyo chuckled softly, and then giggled because she couldn’t quite help herself.

“Yes, dad.”

Rudo huffed, “don’t make fun of’me.”

“I’m making fun of Enjin.”

“Mhm….”

Enjin rolled his eyes, “Brats, I said sleep.”

A few giggles broke out, mostly from Riyo but definitely accompanied with a chuckle from Zanka and a snort from Rudo before all three collectively smiled, “Yes, dad.”