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You may not see me

Summary:

Graves secretly watched the boy over the night and credence being completely oblivious.

Notes:

This is my first attempt to write, it's really short. Sorry if there's any grammar error, english isn't my native language. Grammar polices are always welcome.

Work Text:

"Stop handing out such drivels you loser!" Laughters boomed echoing the deserted alleyway among two rather burly men crowding in front of him. Thick clouds hovered the sky, giving drafty and chilly night air. Dimmed lights from the lamp above enough to illuminate the surrounding.

It was late at night, Ma caught him sneaking into the kitchen snatching a pie from the oven. Ma only gave him two potatoes to eat today. Legitimate reason for his ravenousness to the utmost. Any hint of footsteps was long dissipated. Not thinking what could possibly happen if Ma found out, He tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, didn't resist to turn on the lights, he managed to eat half slice of pie, shoving them into his mouth greedily. One flicked on the switch and the room went instantly bright. As heavy footsteps approached him from behind, he stopped eating when a hand grabbed his shoulder hard, so hard it hurts. He turned to face his foster mother. "Never devour what wasnt yours". She screamed into his face. Spits were everywhere.

Ma decided to lash his back five times with a belt. Whimper and moan filled the entire kitchen and the white hot pain searing through him, back arched, gulping for air and leaving fresh red strips hadn't sated Ma enough. Modesty secretly peeking from behind the door, eyes glistening from tears and blotchy red, never dared to even protest.

Withdrawing a stack of flyers from the drawer in her office, she shoved them into his hands. "Out! Dont come back unless with empty hands" she said through gritted teeth, face visibly red from the rage. He made his way out through the door.

Pamphlets was shoved out harshly from his trembling hands making him jolt slightly a foot backward from the sudden force.

Dividing the wrinkled pamphlets among both men, they scanned them and a smirk creeped into their lips. Credence's bottom lip quivered by the sight and he teared his gaze away from them to his brown worn boots. Fingers fidgeting behind his back. His cheeks has turned scorch red, wishing he could slowly dissipate into thin air.

Cackling with laughter, they lifted their head to look at him "Hey dickhead, living in a fantasy aren't you. Witches aren't exist, dude this guy is out his mind" the man suppressed another gleeful laugh, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

He just stood there, shoulders hunched. Sweats dripping from his forehead down and drooping on his jawline. "Dude, what an abysmal haircut this kid has" the other man said and to credence surprise, the man ghosted his fingers over his hair, slowly twirling a strand over his finger. "Soft" he spoke softly leaving his stomach churned inside him.

The other man trailed his long fingers down and up credence's arm, then moved to rested them on his chest. He bit his lower lips when fingers fiddling over the buttons, slowly unbutton them.

And then it was blur in a matter of seconds, all he remembered was he got shoved against the brick walls when a heavy footsteps come from the opposite side of the alleyway, murmurs of incantation and man screaming "Who gives you the right to touch him", his head hit the hard solid slipping him into unconsciousness.

He woke up to a morning light peeking through the curtains. Flickered his gaze around the familiar room. He was in his room again .What a weird dream. He thought to himself. His head was perfectly fine, gave him no slight hint it had been knocked. Not until then he realized a small note lying on the bed stand beside him.

Scrawled across the paper in a tidy, cursive handwriting, the note read: Take care of yourself boy.