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Follo knew not to run in the halls of the Cleaners Headquarters, yet he almost always did it anyways. Despite the sharp turns, breakneck pivots and even worse residents, he’d never really run into someone. Plus, he was still young, so he got a little bit of a pass, right? He’d like to think that too.
Yet, somehow in some way, he was sure he felt something obstruct the hallway as he tumbled to the floor, the taste of tile not particularly fulfilling. His hat flew off his head, and the wind was knocked out of his lungs and onto the floor. He couldn’t even catch his breath — lying like an injured dog. Follo’s mind was left spinning in circles, half-wheezing and half-hyperventilating as a distant, muffled voice called out to him. He could feel himself being picked up, shoulder being patted as his ears drowned for a few dizzying seconds. His vision was just as blurry.
Blinking once, twice, he finally managed to process who was in front of him. It certainly wasn’t anyone he recognized, a thought rang out. Whoever this was didn’t have a Giver or Supporter uniform. Did he just get bulldozed a random civilian? How humiliating. He blinked again. The features on the other person’s face came to him, and so did their voice.
“I’m super sorry, are you alright?” Their voice was as clear as a bell, and it served to wake Follo out of his short-lived coma and into the world once again. Their features finally, finally faded into view, and Follo stifled. The other boy had dark red hair that mirrored fire in the sunrise’s drawl, a deep tan that made even Follo’s skin seem pale in comparison, and what looked like two black earcuffs on both ears.
It certainly wasn’t anyone he recognized.
Follo cleared his throat, the quick and rapid apologies and excuses meeting his ears now. His head throbbed uncomfortably.”It’s—it’s fine, who’re you?” He coughed, wincing as the glare of the lights overhead hit his sensitive eyes. The other boy flinched when he spoke, and before answering, put Follo’s arm over his shoulder so he could lift him up, something that was much appreciated by the stumbling Supporter. “Oh good, you can talk.” He sounded genuinely relieved, which made a small understanding smile curl on Follo’s lips. He was definitely anxious. “Oh, I’m…Tao. Tao Lycagine. I joined Team Akuta today!” Tao’s overwhelmingly bright smile almost distracted him from the fact that he was a Giver.
A Giver.
Follo found the strength to break out of the kind hold on him, mumbling a thank you before balancing himself on his two feet. The redhead, however, placed his hands on Follo’s shoulders, as if worried he’d fall over. It made his eye twitch. Did he think he was incapable of taking care of himself? Is he underestimating him because he’s a Supporter? Unfortunately, the short-lived irritation died as he saw Tao’s genuine concern. Oh, he almost said out loud. He’s just nervous.
“A Giver, huh?” Follo laughed nervously, trying to peel Tao’s hands off his shoulder. He got the memo, and quickly pulled back, nodding and crossing his arms. It seemed that natural confidence returned; Follo wasn’t surprised that someone with his appearance would be outgoing. It didn’t exactly scream conformity. “Yup!” Tao chirped, hand on hip. “Not the best introduction to a fellow teammate. I’m sorry about that.” He bowed apologetically before picking his head up, clearing his throat. “Let’s try that again.”
Tao outstretched his hand, warmth and stars exceeding from him, orbiting the aurora reflecting underneath his eyelids. How charming, a thought quipped.
“I’m Tao Lycagine, and from today I’ll be working with you. I’ll be in your care!”
— — — — — — —
Follo nodded, squinting playfully at the short but polite introduction. It at least established his name. He was almost glad the boy in front of him didn’t have a long, winded or theatrical monologue about who he was. He just seemed a little clumsy but well-meaning, two traits Follo was more than familiar with. Everyone here was well-meaning. “That so?” He cleared his throat, preparing to introduce himself. Before that, he was suddenly stuck pausing, mouth slightly agape.
“Where’s my hat?”
Tao blinked—once, twice—before attempting to stifle a laugh. He didn’t, and it came out as a strangled snort. Follo was unable to find the strength to narrow his eyes at him. “You just realized…” Tao trailed off, lips twitching furiously towards a smile, and he quickly looked away to avoid the Supporter’s glare. “I’m sorry. I’m—pfft—not mocking you, I swear.” He was halfway laughing as he spoke, and Follo almost commented on his amusement before Tao reached to pick up his familiar hat and goggles off the floor directly below his feet.
Oh.
That’s why he was laughing.
Follo’s face burned to a scalding hot degree, and as Tao lifted his head to meet the other boy’s eyes, he finally let out a burst of laughter he was struggling to keep in, almost doubling over at how flustered the Supporter was. Follo attempted to defend himself. “I—It’s not funny!” He snapped, but he couldn’t find it in him to be angry. Something told him that he wasn’t trying to mock him, which made it even more irritating. But in a strange way. “You’re right,” Tao coughed, attempting to stop himself. “It’s hilarious, goggles!” He started cackling even harder. Follo just groaned loudly, a mix of anger and impressed amusement at the fact he was laughing in his face. Most people weren’t that rude — or careless, at least. Follo moved to place his hand on the collar of Tao’s shirt, face strung with frustration. “I hate you!” his words were scathing with venom. The grin on Tao’s face only widened, something Follo thought was unusual. Did he think he was…?
“What’s going on?” A boisterous voice echoed through the hall, reaching both of their ears. It was Gris, standing on the opposite end of the hallway, poking his head out from one of the doors. Follo tightened his grip, vein on his forehead bulging from anger, and Tao’s laughter briefly subsided to quiet giggles.
“Don’t be such an asshole!”