[attr="class","beck"]where merlino sees circhester, theo sees cinnabar. his eyes close, too, to an image of a night sky littered with the brightest of stars. he feels long grass brush against his skin, hears soft whispers that sound like giggles, and for a moment, he's happy.

"do you miss it?"

his eyes open and reality returns.

"home."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Circhester, no matter the time of the year, remained snug under a blanket of snow. It's cold enough in the streets to see your breath, and he remembers skating across frozen patches of ice on the walk to and from school.

The sky was pretty, a shimmering expanse of white.

Memories ring hollow, tainted by the shadows that stand behind. Drops of blood in backyard snow, shaking hands attempting to force a door that's been locked tight.

"It's not home." Not any more. Had it ever been? "Don't have a home."

[attr="class","beck"]he drops the cigarette, stomps on it right as a knock sounds from the door. his eyes fall back to merlino for a moment.

"i hope you find one someday."

he stands, approaches the door. it opens and there's a soft exchange of words, and after a nod, the figure disappears, fleeting.

"i need you to swear your loyalty to me, merlino."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Gavin winces at the knock on the door.

He's not ready. He needs more time. He's barely even loosened the ropes around his wrists, still struggling to remember the layout of a building he's not been to in years.

His heart pounds so loud in his ears, he thinks it might burst.

He's started to shake, in spite of himself. So long as he'd thought he could prolong the inevitable, bravery lingered. It fades now like a memory, like a bad dream.

He inhales, sharp, and almost misses the words. They're not what he expects.

"What?"

[attr="class","beck"]he pushes the door shut, locks it, and there's urgency in the way he moves back over. the door behind him shakes, handle twisting, but it holds for now.

"swear it."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

The door rattles, and Gavin's eyes widen.

Confusion, unspoken, presents itself in the furrow of his brow. There's something to the words, command, that sees him obey.

"I-I — okay, I swear!" He fumbles, flustered. "Sir."

[attr="class","beck"]i swear.

he manages to slither a hand behind his back just as the door bursts open. a spry-looking male teen stands by the door with a knife in one hand. he's practically trembling, much like merlino was, but he immediately springs forward.

theo moves at the same time. he slips out of the reach of the knife, raises his own, and stabs it into their neck. the knife lodges, finding resistance, but theo keeps pushing until they hit the wall.

then, he pulls away, steps back, and watches the teen drop to the ground. blood pools.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

The door bursts open and like a shitty movie, Gavin sees his life flash before his eyes.

He understands the turn of phrase, in that moment; the youth radiates the same nervous energy that Gavin had known in a dark alley with his arm wrapped around some poor kid's throat. It's like he sees all the moments leading up to this in pale vignette, from his first kill to his last, satisfying kick to Theo's shin.

Survive, no matter the cost.

Only he hadn't. End of the line.

But then Theo moves, and it's not to step aside. It's to ram a knife that Gavin recognizes as his own into that poor bastard's neck.

Gavin recoils with enough force that the chair nearly tips back.

"Arceus."

[attr="class","beck"]not a second passes before theo's moving again. this time he circles around, cuts the rope with a different knife. it falls to the ground, parts of it slapping blood.

footsteps sound from outside, faint, but approaching. theo reaches for merlino's hand, forces it open, and places the bloody knife in it. he lingers, makes sure to meet merlino in the eyes, then steps away right as a figure appears by the door.

'what's this?'

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Conditioning kicks in quick in the presence of violence; when Theo moves around behind him, Gavin flinches. There's a moment where he almost struggles, hands balled into tight fists that still shake like leaves, and then suddenly he is free.

A knife — his knife, he recognizes the feel — is pressed into his palm.

Theo looks him in the eye, and Gavin understands.

He's on his feet in seconds, free hand coming up to tug rough against a busted lip. It stings, bleeds anew, and he lets it run over his tongue, his teeth. The taste of iron is as close to home as it gets.

Don't speak unless spoken to.

Theo's in charge, and Gavin is subservient. Bloodied, standing over a man he had not killed, he does not lift his gaze to acknowledge the looming figure.

Blood runs hot, drips down his chin.

[attr="class","beck"]like a loyal servant, merlino doesn't answer, and it's enough to give validity to his oath. theo answers:

"looks like your boy wasn't quick enough."

the man's eyes flick over to the rope on the ground, sees how they had been cut loose.

'y-you set him free?'

"i made it a fair fight. if you have a problem with that, then, well..."

his gaze is threatening — it calls for submission, and after moments of silence, it's given. the man mutters something then turns and leaves.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

'You set him free?'

What was that saying, again?
If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours—

Gavin's loyalty to THEO BECKETT was secured the moment the ropes had fallen away from his wrists. It hadn't been a fair fight. It hadn't been a fight at all. It doesn't matter.

When he looks at Theo, a different sort of fire burns. Not defiance, not anger. Loyalty.

"I swear it, sir." He exhales, shaky. "Thank you."

[attr="class","beck"]gratitude feels strange only because it's rarely given, but in that moment, he accepts it.

i swear.

"stay with me and you'll be safe."

i swear, too.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn