Chapter Text
Your family isn't the most well-off. Since the day you were eligible to work, you have been upholding a position as a customer service employee to assist your parents… or, well, parent. It isn't much, but it's a humble job with decent pay. If you budget right, you're able to supply yourself and your mother with meals for the month. She works as well, though considering she has had to raise you alone throughout your childhood, it was considerably difficult for her to save till you were much older. You're fortunate to still be able to attend school in your situation; however, it is tougher considering you have to clock in the second the last school bell rings. Most of the time, work doesn't disrupt your school day, but you've taken a severe blow to your social life. When the weekend rolls around, the least you want to do is be out and about.
Alas, people get bored with you fast. Not many stick by you. While the teenagers within your school like to act all grown, the concept of responsibility isn't a factor that comes to mind. Your maturity scares people off; they want someone like them, loud and unreasonable, but ready to have fun. Well, unfortunately, you do not have the time to goof around. You plan to be a good student, get good grades, get out of there fast, and then make a ton of money on your own. You’ll be well-off, then maybe, you’ll be able to live your rebellious teenage years when there’s nothing you can lose for it. Before that, though, you have to make sure you and your mother are okay. If not you, you wanted to at least make it up to your mom for causing her so much trouble, so much sacrifice. You can’t afford to let it go to waste.
The warm sun beat down on your skin as you exited the supermarket, groceries to your sides. You calculated that it should last at least a week, maybe two if you portion the rations right. Now your least favorite part came, going back home. Because your mother had little money, you often had to go through the dark, murky alleys to reach your dinky apartment. The city you lived in wasn’t exactly the safest, while such detours were risky; it was better than crossing the unpredictable streets. You had seen people being mugged, beaten, shot, all in broad daylight, and left on the sidewalk. Spina di Rosula tried to establish order within Fleuve Cendre, though it seemed they were better off erasing the evidence of such crimes than controlling the violence rampant during the day. When you find a body limp and bleeding out in the daylight, it’s gone when you find it again the next few hours. It’s worse during the night, and your mother stresses that you should never be out there, even with a friend.
Nobody is well off in Fleuve Cendre, so when the night hits, it's the time when ex-convicts come out to work. That or the well-off come visit in search of an… accomplice, or so to say. A savior, an offer too good to be true, because it was. Those aristocrats like to play with vulnerable, young no-names, because in this city, nobody wonders where you go should you disappear. Unless you build a name for yourself in some gang, a majority of people in Fleuve Cendre are only there to survive. Even then, gang activities were hazardous; at any point, you could become a target if you say the wrong thing or look at someone funny. It was better to hang your head low, don’t look for trouble where you know it’ll happen. This approach has been… mostly effective for you. It was better that nobody in school cared enough to bother you; you could walk home freely without being disrupted. Not everything in your hometown was bad… You try to think the best of everyone who passes by you, even if you have a habit of holding your breath when your shoulder brushes past a stranger.
They’re only regular people, just like you, you think to yourself. Some of them do drugs, traffic, or maybe they have a blade or a gun hidden somewhere in their belt. If you don’t engage… then they won’t use it on you. At least, you pray they’re reasonable like that. You hover over the dark alley with panicked breaths, staring into the abyss, where the sun can’t reach over the tall buildings. If you lingered too long, you could see the eyes of a beast stare back at you. Staying out here, however, won’t do you any good. If the “monster” hidden in the dark doesn’t reach you, then someone in the wrong state of mind might. You look down at your shoes as you step in, counting the steps it would take until you get home. Sometimes you run into others by accident, too afraid to face the darkness ahead. Women with raunchy attire, gruffy, bearded men with cigarettes stuck to their mouths, or people dressed too well for a city like this one are among the more recognizable people you’ve run into. Most days, they’d leave you alone, maybe linger their eyes on you too long when you walk past. The harshest response you’ve gotten is being pulled back, but the moment they see your frightened face, they push you back, murmuring to “watch where you’re going next time.” You would have the occasional discomforting instances where they would look at your body too long and murmur things you couldn’t hear under their breath. You don’t think you want to know what they say about you, especially the older men.
When you step into a drying puddle, the tension in your muscles eases a little. It’s a telltale sign that you are at least halfway home, and so far, you haven’t stirred up any trouble for anyone. You hold your head up a little higher, cold sweat running down your cheek as you clutched the plastic bags a little tighter. There are only a few miles left; everything will be alright, or so you tell yourself. It helps to hope in a place as legally gray as here, you try to assure yourself that it could be worse. You let your mind run as you mechanically tracked the way home, tuning out the sound of running pipes, the patter of old brick on your feet, even the second set of footsteps in front of you. Wait, hold on… another set of foo—
"Ah!" You run into the incoming stranger, though it felt more like you ran into a wall over a person. You shook your head as you stumbled back, looking up to be faced with a rather tall, blonde man you vaguely recognized. He wasn't outstandingly large or anything, but you still shrank as he gazed down at you with an unreadable expression. He seemed like an older fellow, considering the wrinkles under his eyes and his thick, unruly brows. He appeared to be in his thirties, at most, as his skin was still relatively smooth. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't looking!" You bow your head in apology, shutting your eyes as you feel the anxiety begin to simmer in your gut. As if you weren't sweating enough already, your hands were getting clammy, the plastic bags to your sides starting to tear as you strained your grip on them. The man in front of you said nothing, but you could still feel his heavy gaze judging your rather pitiful actions. You bit your bottom lip to retain a whimper, internally yelling at yourself while simultaneously praying he wasn't too angry with you.
The man crossed his arms, stroking his chin as he thought. "[Name]?" He addressed you suddenly, his voice gruff and gravely. You straightened quickly, surprised that this apparent stranger knew who you were. "Y…yeah?" You croaked, "I'm… I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?" his expression dropped before he righted himself. "Suppose it has been a while since you last saw me, don't blame you. You're a good kid after all, better to worry about your studies than a sleazy geezer like me, eh?"
The strange man fumbled with his pockets with an impatient grunt. He took out a sleek, golden badge that seemed rather old, given the scratches and light chipping on the material. When he hovered it in front of you, you could make out the Spina di Rosula's logo engraved onto the badge. An officer, or a retired one at the very least. As it seemed like the badge had not seen the light of day in a while, the protective coating was starting to tear off. It helped jog your memory somewhat; you don't usually see Spina officers patrolling the streets, unlike at your school. There would always be at least two officers on duty, typically the same faces every day, but you never stir up trouble to worry about them ever spying on your behavior. Alas, you never bothered to recognize their names or faces; they were just there to assure your safety during class hours.
You tried your best to maintain a weak smile. "Sorry… I don't remember who you were… Um, do you work at my school?"
"Virgil," the man finally spouted, "I did, I got laid off."
You clicked your tongue, "Oh." It was finally coming to you, Virgil. No wonder he seemed so familiar; he was one of the first new faces you saw when you started freshman year. You didn't regard his presence much; your first year was a blur anyway. He helped with the swimming club, always prepared with skin-tight trunks. You would catch him heading to that section when you stayed later after school, when you didn't feel like going home to tend to your ill mother again and again. Speaking of your mother, you really had to get going. You didn't have the time to spare in idle chatter, lest you wanted to involve yourself in bigger, unnecessary danger. "I'm sorry to hear that… Um, it was nice seeing you again! I'm glad you're well, but I should go now." You strode past him quickly to avoid being caught in further pointless questioning and ceaseless farewells. Virgil, however, didn't seem to get the hint, "Wait." He caught up to you fast. "Don't you need help with that? It'd be faster, I'll make up your lost time if you let me."
You didn't like the idea of a stranger following you home. Sure, Virgil worked for the Spina, but there must have been a reason for his sudden departure. Frankly, you didn't want to find out what he did to be terminated from his duties. You don't look back, preferring to stick to the path as it gradually became harder to navigate, "N-No, I'm fine. Thank you, though." You denied him again as politely as you could, quickening your pace despite the weight of your groceries slowing you down. Virgil didn't seem to like your constant denials; his eye twitched as he trailed behind you. "You got a problem with me, kid? Why the sudden cold shoulder?"
Your shoulders tensed, "M-my mom just doesn't like it when I bring strangers home."
He scoffed, "Strangers? Come on, dollface, you know me. We're hardly considered strangers!"
The sudden nickname made your hair stand. It was meant to be endearing, but coming from a man a good two decades older than you, it came off creepy instead. You barely spoke to the guy, and he was only there a year, so why the sudden interest? "I-I'm. I'm fine," you tried to sound stern even through the stutter. Alas, trying to express your discomfort without sounding rude did not work, Virgil hissed as he suddenly grabbed your arm. He tugged you back roughly, triggering your fight-or-flight instincts. "Come on, sweetie! Just let me walk you back already—"
Without thinking, you swung one of your bags directly at his head out of fright. He let you go with a howl as he smacked his hand where you hit. When you stepped back, you realized your mistake. Shaking, you stammered out a hasty apology, "I-I'm… I didn't mean to… I-I was just startled that you—" You shut up when you heard him hyperventilating, the veins in his arms pulsing.
"You… fucking bitch." Virgil snarled, his face red and his pupils wild and full of rage. Your heart dropped, gut clenching in horror as your situation dawned on you. "Should've known a quiet little brat like you would be so prissy."
"N-No, I- I'm… I'm sorry, okay!" Your voice cracked, tears filled your eyes as you clenched your fists. The much broader male stumbled in your direction, and your adrenaline rushed into your system as his arm dared to reach out for you again.
Run. Run.
You stopped doubting that Virgil wasn't going to harm you, dropping your things and sprinting in another direction. Not the way home, you knew you wouldn't be safe if you went home. Your mother was sick. What could she do to defend you if he got inside? Then you'd be endangering her too, even if you locked him out— who's to say he wouldn't stalk your routine to harm you worse? Another problem— however— you have no clue where you're going. You just bolted into the next corner that seemed convenient. The alley ahead was completely foreign to you, the infrastructure gravely impacted by time and decay, as the cracked stone pavement nicked your feet as you ran. Virgil's heavy footsteps followed close behind you, and it urged you to run faster out of pure fear for your life.
You heard him yelling for you, but you didn't dare look back, knowing it would only slow you down. He caught up fast, and it seemed misfortune was on your side as you had to round a corner. Your body hit the wall, but you saw that at the end of the alley were streetlights. Hope. Perhaps someone could help you get away from this psycho, even though it was already dark out— surely there had to be someone, right? Anyone would do. Anyone who wasn't the manic man chasing after you. Of course, you knew the likelihood of finding a police officer on duty at this time wasn't high; hell, you'd take a crackhead. Just someone scarier than you.
You ignored the long scrapes on your arm, even when beads of blood began to stain your uniform. You couldn't feel the pain; it felt more like a distant, separate pulse entirely. The oxygen rushing into your head blocked out the sounds of Virgil's approach, and your vision saw blotches of colors on the faraway street over the clear handwriting of store signs. You couldn't make out the carefully calligraphed cursive writing "CLOSED," in fact it seemed eerily quiet— no humming of old cars, no chatter or bustle between folks of varying ages, barren. Lonely. Just like you.
Your hand reached the end of the alley, your fingertips just barely touching short of the fresh air of the open street. Virgil was faster; he yanked you back and threw you into the darkness of the alleyway again. Your body was hidden beside a dumpster, smelling of rot and decay, yet your senses were so all over the place you didn't realize where you were for a fleeting second. Blood clotted up your lungs, squeezing out a yell of terror as you tried to fight the man off of you. Virgil, being a retired cop, was far too experienced to play anymore games with you. He pinned you down and slapped you square in the face to shut you up. The sound rang across the empty alley, and you saw black spots through your vision, a flash of white clouding your vision as you cried out in pain.
"Would've preferred to fuck you when you were still fresh and ripe." He slurred, prying the buttons of your uniform open. "Oh well, you're still decently young. Bet you're still a virgin anyway. Never saw you talk to any other kids your age." A sinister smile stretched his cheeks as you viciously writhed against him, his lower body glued you to the littered alleyway floor. He laughed loudly at your feeble attempts, mocking your helpless state, "Should've just let me walk ya home, too bad you wanted to feel special and play hard to get, eh?" His hands were rough, mechanical in the pattern they journeyed— as if he had a particular pathway in mind long before he straddled you to the ground— and they prickled your skin with each touch and pinch he gave to your resisting body.
"Let go of me..!" you begged fruitlessly, trying to sound tough even as tears dribbled down your face. Virgil laughed at your efforts, triumphing over his fresh reward— your dignity, your virginity. A bruise bloomed where he struck you, your delicate, untouched skin aching and burning up in the dense air. Why? Why of all times did the streets have to be so empty? You tried to kick and struggle, he pinned your wrists above your head when you tried to slap his hands away from your body. "Stop bitching around." He snarled, pinching the soft skin of your chest. You sniffled, even with all your strength, you couldn't lift your hands anymore. "You'll like this when you stop trying to fight me."
You whimpered, shaking your head, hoping this is all just a bad dream. "N-noo… no, no, I-I don't want this…" Something hard and squishy rolled against your thigh as you spoke, prodding against the meat of your thigh and scrunching up your skirt. Your heart dropped farther into the depths of your gut, you squeezed your eyes shut, head lolled to the side. "Stop… stop…" What did you do to deserve this? Would this not have happened had you just… accepted Virgil's demands..? You don't understand his motivations, had you wronged him without realizing? Any effort in running away slipped from your palm, your vision clouded in a translucent sheet. Virgil didn't pay any mind to your desperate pleading. It boosted his sadistic ego to know you couldn't fight back. Much like reliving his glory days of pouncing on innocent civilians for resisting him. His breath reeked as he dipped his head down to lick up a long stripe of your cheek, sampling the bitter tang of your tears. You wrenched to the side in disgust, the ends of your hair prickling up in shock.
He chuckled, hot and low against your skin, wasting no time in turning your body around. Your face squished against the dirty pavement, dirt and muck scraping against your bruised cheek and making you wince. Virgil humped your ass like a wild dog, struggling with undoing the buckle of his pants. "Yur' gonna experience something beyond your wildest dreams…" He panted, thrusting his hips up like a broken metronome; hungering for the friction in your plush, young body. Virgil cursed under his breath when his belt refused to comply, pressing his lower body weight harder onto you as he finally let your wrists go. You couldn't feel your legs, but that didn't stop you from viciously thrashing your arms around the moment they were freed. "Keep trying sweetheart… nothin' is stopping me from tasting this tight little cunt of yours…" He mocked before yanking your skirt up where you were unable to strike him. You forced your upper body up, Virgil's weight making your muscles cry out in pain where you twisted your torso. You aimlessly started searching the floor while the man behind you busied himself in tearing your underwear off of you.
One of your hands banged on the dumpster, trying to find anything that could help you— feeling around the slimy ground before touching something cold and smooth. You didn't think twice, you snatched the sleek, heavy object and smashed it over his head with all your might. Glass shattered and rang harshly in your ear, Virgil screamed in pain and toppled sideways as he held his hands in his face. You wasted no time in slipping away, scrambling on your knees, and bolting, messily trying to adjust your clothing to the right place. Your heart was pumping so fast, the blood rushing into your head and obscuring the path in front of you. There was no victory from your escape, just the fear of getting caught again that drove you forward— even when you've long since lost your sense of direction. You weren't thinking clearly when you finally left the alley and rounded the sharp corner.
Your body collided with another almost immediately, nearly tripping the two of you from the force of how fast you were running. The stranger managed to catch you, legs wobbling backward but succeeding in keeping you two upright. You latched onto them without thinking. A panicked, familiar voice barked before you could get a word in, "[N-Name]?!" They held you against their chest, their height shadowing your own. "What— … What are you doing out here!? What was all that yelling?? Are you okay?!" Their soft, silky, deep voice grounded you, even through the adrenaline in your veins; you knew who that voice belonged to. It could only be one person.
Freminet.
You didn't question why he was here; you just hid in his arms as the tears poured out. "H-Help me," You rasped desperately, fisting the front of his shirt as if you feared he'd let go. "Please." Your heart was pumping so fast, hypersensitive to your surroundings and the danger that lingered not too far off. A part of you was relieved that of everyone you could have run into, it was someone you vaguely knew. You weren't well acquainted with Freminet; it wasn’t like you guys spoke often. But from the few interactions you had, he seemed sweet enough, a little shy…or, a lot. He seemed like someone who had a lot to say, but his words stumbled and he'd freeze up, make hasty excuses, and leave before he could get his thoughts in. However, he was eager to help when he could, and right now— You were begging to be helped. It didn't matter to you how it was achieved; you just needed to get away from Virgil, and now.
He seemed even more confused with your words, his hands clenched around your sides. He didn't touch you; he seemed too startled to. But he was smart enough to pick up on the urgency in your tone, lowering his voice instead of trying to rush you in answering all his questions. "W-What's wrong?" The concern in his words assured you, he wasn't here to harm you, not like that man. Freminet was cautious and worried to death, but he was patient; it made you cry ugly tears. "I-I was… I was just- just trying to- hic get home! But- but— h-he cut me off and- sniff, hic, c-chased me a-and h-he wants to hurt me!" Freminet was scouring his brain to find a way to calm you down, nervously placing his hands on your shoulders to ground you. "He? [Name], w-who is he?" The world around him seemed to blur, your crying being the only thing that stopped him from dissaciating entirely.
"H-Hey… Hey, look at me—" he tilted your chin up with one hand and suddenly froze up when he saw your face. Your teary eyes locked onto his, seeing the color drain from his pupils. Genuine horror, the kind you'd only see in war. He let go of your shoulders, cupping your face as his breath hitched. "[Name]… w-who… who did this to you?" His fingers were careful to touch around the bruised area of your cheek, and you could feel him shaking as he examined you more thoroughly. Your throat burned, the fear brimming in your stomach threatening to gurgitate out of you. You couldn't name-drop the culprit no matter how hard you tried, choking on your spit and spouting nonsensical blabbering. There were clues on you that spoke louder than your words needed to.
Your hair was messed up, the buttons of your school uniform were popped open and pushed to the side, your skirt was shifted out of place, and your knees were scraped and bleeding. Freminet felt his whole world crumbling as he picked apart the details, did someone—?
His question would be answered as a sound snapped him back to the alley you ran out of. You both heard Virgil curse out loud as he limped out of the alleyway. The side of his head was oozing blood. Large stray glass shards stuck to his flesh, burrowed deep into the skin, soft, pink muscles flaked off and exposed; throbbing in the open air obscenely. He seemed disoriented and confused, his wild eyes catching sight of you and Freminet. You yelped in terror, rushing back into Freminet’s arms and stuffing your face into his chest. Freminet began to understand what was going on, and his eyes darkened as he saw Virgil's attention glued onto you. Only when his arms wrapped around you and shielded you from the injured man that Virgil finally realized he was there. Freminet's heart ached as he felt your cries vibrate against his chest, his fingers threaded through your messed up hair, quietly assuring you'; as he stared daggers into Virgil. "It's him, isn't it?" He whispered to you, rage simmering in his tone.
You whimpered, rubbing your face into his shirt with a broken, "Yes…"
Virgil scurried back into the alley, tripping on his shoe as he staggered to regain his balance against the wall. Freminet nodded, gently nudging you back. He wouldn't get away with it, no, he wouldn't allow Virgil to go home scot free. "Father" never allowed men who harmed her children to live, so what made Virgil any different? If he didn't deal with him now, what if he went after you again? What if he couldn't be there for you if that happened? Freminet didn't have the words to express how much you meant to him; he doesn't believe you would understand them anyways. His vision saw red, his hands itching to get on that man's skin, pull it off, tear it open, to rip him apart for the blasphemy he committed. You looked up at him, still teary-eyed as he pulled you away from him, "Wh-wait… wh-where- where are you g-going?" you tried to latch onto him, but he pulled your prying hands away with a force that felt restrained.
"I'm not leaving you," he began, his eyes stuck on the alleyway Virgil was running off into. "He won't harm you again, I promise. I'll come back for you." He broke away to look at you briefly, his eyes blank, the light in his pupils missing entirely. Freminet laced his fingers against yours, squeezing your hand as if he was sealing his promise. His smiled fondly, but you saw how his eye twitched in growing irritation; but it wasn't directed at you. "Wait for me." His fingers slipped away, you momentarily chased for the contact again, but he was quicker. Freminet strode past you and disappeared into the alley; his approach was fast, restless, hungry. He was gone in a blink, and you stood there dumbfounded and rooted where he left you. His words echoed in your ears, wait, he told you— but you weren't sure if you could comply with that request.
You were still shaken, and your body burned where he touched you; in spite of how minimal it was. Your mind missed it already, starved on his gentle affection that you couldn't control your legs from chasing after him.
Virgil didn't get very far, with his head injury, he was stumbling on things left and right. Hell, he really couldn't tell where he was going, he just needed to get away from that kid. The one who stared at him with such hatred that, despite his ego, struck fear into his gut. Sure, he didn't seem like much, he was quite dainty and feminine looking… but there was just something about him that told Virgil he shouldn't risk lingering any longer. His head was throbbing, he could taste blood on the tip of his tongue. A part of Virgil was still fuming that you got a hit on him, quite a severe one too. It just so happened that you got lucky, but Virgil swore that the next time he saw you— he would do worse for what you did to him. At first he didn't have a particular motive, but now he seethed for revenge.
Who knew you had some bite in you? It somehow excited him to think about, how he couldn't wait to crush that flame of yours… force you to be a complicit little toy for him… It got him hard again thinking about it, even if his head was thrumming with pain.
That was his gravest mistake, the unforgivable was considering putting his dirty hands on you in the first place. While Virgil was busy fantasizing filth about you, Freminet practically pounced on him the moment he caught the limping man in his peripheral vision. Virgil was too slow to realize the approaching footsteps were racing directly after him, he was on the floor before he could turn fully. "FUCK! Watch where you're going you piece of—" the words were knocked out of him as a harsh punch came barreling straight for his face. He tried to scream, but another silenced him before he could, then another, and again.
Virgil was effectively pinned to the ground, his attacker was tough, his fists hitting with the force of an experienced adult male fighter but—the weight atop of him felt light, like a child's… "Augh! Hkk— Why you little—" He lunged his arm forward to retaliate even through the blood beginning to obscure his vision. Big mistake, his arm was snatched and twisted, he could feel his bones shift, pop, then crack. Pain burst across his nervous system, a hoarse cry ripping out of his throat as he desperately tried to snatch his hand away. Virgil hacked out blood as the remaining air in his lungs was punched out of him, his throat tightened as he struggled to catch his breath. "Hahk— Hh—- Shh- ugh— ihht—" He gurggled, seeing black spores within his reddened vision as his ears rung. Above him, he barely made out the muffled heavy breathing of what sounded more like an animal. Virgil was slapped back into consciousness before he could drift off.
"You're not passing out on me." A voice spoke to him, low and gravelly, boiling with unrestrained malice he couldn't comprehend fully. "You don't deserve that peace for what you did to them." It sounded distant, but even Virgil's failing senses could detect that the man— boy was extremely displeased with him. Virgil whimpered like a pathetic street mutt, "Lis- hhn.. en…. w-wee… let'ss… ju- hh..hst… t-talk about t-this?" Now he wanted to beg? Freminet stayed silent at the pitiful display of a "man" beneath him. He was stunned, his voice shook as he tried to restrain his laugh of shock, "Talk? You want to explain to me that what you did to [Name] was justifiable?" His fists ached with the force he used to beat the man into a submissive position, he was far from done; he just wanted to stall time to make this man suffer more. To take back each second you spent thrashing, each second he failed to protect you for.
Virgil paused his frantic breathing, turning his limp head forward as his throat squeaked from his shaky words, "Oh, You're… with them." He falls to the side again, blood spurting out of his mouth before he continues, "Ha. Going this far for some faulty goods, boy?" His tone had changed, that overly sarcastic, egotistical persona of his rearing its ugly head forward. Freminet's fists flenched, faulty? Goods? Surely he wasn't referring to you. Virgil wasn't sorry for one, of course he wasn't, he just looked the part from how harshly he was beaten. He ran like a coward over the possibility of his actions actually having consequences, too. He smiled crookedly, snickering beneath his breath, "Too bad. Seems like I got there before you could. Why waste your time now?"
Freminet bit his tongue, "Get to the point." Virgil's ugly, strained laugh violated the air between them, "I'm saying you should go home, little boy. You think doing this will let you have their way with them? With this strength, you could do whatever you want! Say, boy, why don't we… help each other?"He hacked out the remaining strength in his weak lungs to propose his idea. Freminet, on the other hand, felt the blood rushing into his head. His ears blocked out Virgil's lustful fantasy, that's all it was, really. He only made out bits of his proposal, capture, hold down, both, turns, share. Share, share, share. Like you were something that could be used.
Freminet shut Virgil up before he could talk more, his hand lunging for the broken glass bottle stuck to the side of his head. He ripped it out with vicious intensity, a guttural scream rippled across the alley walls. Freminet couldn't make it out, the sound of Virgil's high shouting and begging muffled underneath his heightened need to kill. The blunt end of the broken bottle smashed down on Virgil's face, the shattered pieces stuck on Freminet's fingers, prickling his skin and making him bleed— but his own pain was the least of his concerns. He didn't want to savor his suffering anymore, he just wanted him gone. He plunged the sharp chunk of glass into his chest, slicing down his torso; the man beneath him spasmed, gurgling pleas and attempting to fight off the boy above him. Pulsing, pink flesh spurted sinfully crimson blood on Freminet's face, he flicked his tongue to taste the thick metallic fluid rolling down his cheek.
He didn't realize he was laughing until his throat began burning, shoving his hand into the slit he made and thrusting his hand back. Layers of skin and muscle tore and squelched from the force of his strength. He sliced down to his lower abdomen, reaching to pull out his slippery, squishy intestines. The ends of his eyelids began to tear up with glee, the agonized, gurgling screaming from the squirming man tasted like victory— this is the one thing he can do right. He wasn't going to hide away from this, the wet carnage mushing up in his hands like stew made Freminet's stomach twist with sadistic pleasure.
Virgil was ever so slowly getting quieter, his body twitching and writhing as his blood pooled around him. His breathing rasped, short and gurgled as he drowned in his own gore. He could no longer scream and curse for help from the fluids clogging his airway. His stomach sloshed and churned, his body finally giving into the copious amounts of blood loss that Virgil couldn't control himself. As he tipped his head to the side, he purged out his leftovers along with more sickly crimson. His muscles went stiff and limp, organs spewing out uselessly from his torn torso. The light in his eyes began to fade, pain violating his senses even in his last moments.
Freminet didn't stop ripping into his chest even when Virgil quieted down completely. He made a mess of his knuckles and clothing as he sloshed the meat of his flesh. The alley smelt rancid, coppery, Virgil's body was unmoving and cold, his corpse spasming where Freminet's fists collided out of leftover consciousness. Freminet only stopped when he finally felt that he had enough, lifting his head as he breathed harshly to admire the piece of art he made from Virgil's insides. Freminet's eyes were dilated, hollow, but still simmering with dwindling predation.
He stood up, the evidence of his crime smeared across his hands, his face, his hair, staining his uniform, and splattered all across the alley. His heart felt hollow and heavy, progressively slowing down as the adrenaline began to fade. He shoved his foot into Virgil's exposed ribcage, stomping on it once, twice, listening to that sickening grinding and cracking as the bones collapsed under the force. He smothered his shoe over the pink, bloodied mess of his lungs, slipping his hand into his pocket to take out his phone. The blood tainted his screen red when he swiped up, and he cleaned himself on his slacks mechanically.
He stared down at the visceral mess mushed on the sole of his shoe, usually he would feel sick by now. He felt nothing, only assurance in his gut that Virgil had finally stopped moving. Freminet brought his phone close to his ear, he didn't wait very long for the person on the other line to pick up.
"Freminet." A woman's voice came on, blank and authoritative.
"Father," he answered, before she stopped him. "Have you gotten what I ordered you to? You have yet to return, so for what reason have you called me at this time?"
Freminet's head fell, "No. I wasn't able to complete your order, Father. I got into a fight along the way, I'm sorry. I didn't intend for it to take so long." The line went quiet for a beat. A moment of realization, Freminet's soft, nervous tone was missing. He moved his foot, a wet schelch following his movement. Virgil's throat rattled, and Freminet knew she heard it too.
Arlecchino sighed, "Very well." She knew all too well what occurred, she didn't need an explanation. "You are dismissed, Lynette will assist in concluding your mission. Where are you located now?"
His surroundings didn't feel real, the smell of flesh and blood stuck beneath his nails and glued to his lashes felt like a dream. "Inside the alley near Chioriya Boutique." Freminet answered, his back slouching as he kicked the deceased man on the floor; he couldn't care less of respecting his corpse. However, he failed to detect the soft footsteps approaching his area, his senses fried from the energy he burnt out. His fingers tingled with little, pouring holes where glass stuck to his skin. Once he could finally felt the dull throb of pain humming across his body return— it was already too late. A gasp rung out the alley, making Freminet snap his head around to see the one person he didn't want to see.
The promise he made to you had slipped from his mind. He was supposed to come back to you when he was done, but how could he— when he was like this? The blood drained in his already pale face, making him seem deathly ill. He lost his grip on his phone and ended up dropping it from how hard he was shaking, Father's voice faded as the world closed in on you two. The sight of you made his knees weak, shock striking his vocal cords as he spoke, low and desperate, "[N-Name]?" He had far too many things he wanted to say, what are you doing here? It's not what it looks like, I swear. "I… he… I didn't—" He choked, his eyes wide and his expression frozen in panic. You covered your mouth as the all too familiar smell of blood seeped into your nostrils, "What did you do?" You cut him off, trembling with horror.
It was obvious what he did, you just didn't want to accept it. It hurt him more that you didn't want to acknowledge his crime and accept that what he did was for you. "Y-you're not supposed to be here." That was all he could say. He knew the requirements of being caught, Father said so herself, no witnesses. Except that witness was you. He knew he didn't have the strength to get rid of you, too.
You stepped back, he knew what you were going to do. It's what anyone would do in a situation like this, he couldn't blame you for it, really. "…How could you?" He'd be bothered by that if it were anyone else. All he felt in his heart was a bleeding wound, his airway tightening, his tongue went limp with the weight of his words.
"[Name]…" Freminet stepped forward, extending his hand forward, "D-don't… okay? J-just calm down, I-I can explain—!"
Unfortunately, nothing ever goes his way. You bolted before he could finish, stumbling on your feet as you ran with that same fear when Virgil first preyed on you. "[Name]!" He called for you, his legs chasing after you. Come back, don't go… his thoughts raced; you had no clue what was in store for you if it wasn't him that catches you. His family was far more vicious, who knew what would happen to you if he let you off? Perhaps you're not the kind to report crimes like these, but just the threat of knowing what he did made you enough of a threat. Father is wise, she'd find you, she'd hurt you, he wouldn't see you again.
He caught you by the collar of your uniform and yanked you back. You tried to scream, but your mouth was immediately covered by cloth. The response was an immediate, "Stop." He held you against his chest, his head rested against your shoulder. Freminet's voice was blank yet… oddly assuring. You couldn't tell if he was speaking quietly for himself or for you. "Calm down… Just breathe, I'm not going to hurt you." You didn't believe him, aggressively thrashing around and trying to rip his hand away from you. The cloth smelled sweet and oddly pleasant, your head spun the more you inhaled it. You shook your head in an attempt to get away, but your strength was useless against the blonde who held you captive. Your legs grew wobbly and weak, the only thing keeping you upright being him.
He didn't do much of anything else besides keeping you against him, his promises seemed to fade off into the distance. You couldn't help but breathe the sweet smell in, even as you began realizing that you were losing consciousness over it. Running was a mistake, your lungs demanded air, and you long since exhausted your energy to fight any harder. Tears pricked your eyes, your words muffled and unheard as you slumped against the boy holding you so tightly. You heard him sigh with relief, a hand gently patting the top of your head, "There, there…"
Freminet's nose bumped against the side of your neck, rubbing back and forth. "See? That wasn't so hard…" Were the last words you heard before your vision faded.
Freminet suffered the aftermath of what he did. Blatantly going against Father's orders? It wasn't like him at all! He breathed hard and fast against the crook of your neck, your body was still warm, alive, still here, still with him; even when you were no longer aware of it. He hugged your unconscious body with reverent care, trying to calm his aching heart. You hurt him in a special way, he couldn't be angry that you were afraid… usually his kills wouldn't be this bloody. He really should have been more careful, though a part of him knew he didn't feel remorse for what he did. Merely, he felt sorry that you had to witness such a side to him, but it didn't matter; he was going to make sure you wouldn't remember it.
A quiet pair of footsteps shuffled to his vicinity. Freminet didn't panic, he recognized the sound and knew who it was all too well. A backset of ears looming over the shadows told him which twin it was, though Father had long informed him who it would be. In a way, he was grateful that it was her instead of… his other sibling.
Lynette calmly stepped out of the dark, her violet gaze drifting to your sleeping body, bouncing from Freminet's bloodied self and the carnage behind him. He could see it in her eyes that she knew the blood on him was certainly not his. "Lynette," Freminet spoke first, "I'm sorry to trouble you with more of my mess… but I need a favor from you." Her eyes narrowed, she didn't seem all too pleased. She pointed to you, "Does it concern them?"
He nodded slowly, she only sighed in slight annoyance. Though, a part of her was relieved to see her little brother come out of his shell. She didn't think he'd be the kind to do such things, it seemed she underestimated the intensity of his feelings. "One thing at a time, brother." She walked past him to Virgil's opened carcass. The brutality of split flesh scattered across the floor and walls fascinated her. Freminet hardly used such force, even from targets who weren't all too bright. Though, with how enthralled he was of you, she supposed there are exceptions. She didn't question it, his actions spoke more than his words, and her entire purpose was to watch over the people around her.
Freminet touched your lips, biting his own and his gaze stalked up your body. "Thank you, Lynette…"