Description
Inseparable
by Ratte
Story
The morning sunlight found its way into the dim room, illuminating the space with a much-needed warmth. The light permeated my eyelids and woke me, a nice change from the heavy rain from just the evening before. First squeezing them closed I blinked open my sleepy eyes, for a moment forgetting where I was aside from 'somewhere at home'. That gentle humming in my chest still persisted even into the morning, oddly relaxing.
I still felt that small warmth against my front. Taking the edge of the comforter I gently pulled it up to find the sleeping patron still curled up against me. They seemed so peaceful like this, likely the first time in a long time they felt safe enough to sleep like a normal person. Without the knowledge of their condition they'd seem like any other sleeping person, a difference between them and what I remembered of my dad. In his state, especially as the severity worsened, he was so irritable and volatile he barely slept at all. While both of them were different people with presumably different types of corruption, it was still interesting to see the effect a simple feeling of safety could cause.
More interesting yet, I remembered the prior red moisture around the patron's eyes from last night. From my reading I recalled this being a symptom of negative energy neutralization-- otherwise an indication of healing. It looked alarming, the substance a thick, syrup-like fluid a bit darker than blood. The energy would take a physical appearance upon neutralization for a short time before fading to nothing, making it difficult to study. I was happy enough for a sign of better days for this stranger, especially given that they seemed younger than me and I wasn't much into my adulthood.
Thinking over what might have led them to this state I felt my arm tighten around them slightly. This young and this far north were not a good mix, more so if they came from even farther north than here. New types were predominant up here and the ratio tipped more in their favor the farther north one traveled. While many of them were normal people it wasn't unheard of for pure types like us to fall victim to mistreatment and persecution in specific towns. Some had been overrun by groups and gangs, supremacists looking to push pure types back south from where our type originated and take back their territories.
Separatism would only cause more problems, I thought. While I hoped that the thoughts in my head were only speculation I couldn't help but think it was more than that.
They nuzzled their snout against my chest, an unfamiliar feeling that made me jump a little in surprise. Looking down again they were still asleep but with their small hand clinging tightly to my nightshirt. I pet their head, my fingers gently combing through their unkempt ash-brown hair, and slowly they began to stir awake. After a few initial blinks they looked up at me and quickly recoiled back. They still wouldn't speak, but their face seemed a mix of scared and apologetic and something in my very soul seemed to agree.
"It's okay, honey," I quietly said, trying to reassure them. "You didn't do anything wrong."
They still sat there, upright and hugging their knees. I'd guess that they hadn't consciously meant to cuddle up to me like that, but their subconscious had other plans.
Standing up on my knees I slowly came closer, their looking back to me with quiet fear and looking ready to run at any moment.
"Shh, I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered.
It was enough to keep them still, my creeping closer to wrap them up in my arms and return them to my front. The closest I heard to their voice was a small, breathy gasp.
"You're okay, you're okay," I'd repeat. "I won't hurt you. Nobody here will hurt you. You didn't do anything wrong, honey."
I'm not sure what happened but they seemed to relent, their little hand once again clinging to my nightshirt. I rested the side of my face against their head, anything I could do to keep them feeling safe. Though still a stranger to me I couldn't bear to see another person go through what my father had, and if I could put some kind of stop to that I would do anything in my power.
"There we go," I'd comment when they seemed to stop shaking. "You hungry, by chance?"
After a short pause they'd shallowly nod.
"Would you like to stay here while I make some breakfast, or would you like to come with me?" I asked. "The kitchen is down the hall but I'd be right there with you."
Their grip tightened on my shirt. As far as I could tell they really didn't like being alone. With that condition I couldn't say it surprised me, though it did strike me as both a little odd and a little funny that I'd be their source of comfort. I wasn't really anything to look at-- slightly taller than average but also a bit on the heavier side with a plain face and drab colors. I'd never been one to turn heads so this attachment was pretty new to me.
"Alright, you can come with me," I softly laughed, releasing them from my grasp so I could hop off the bed. "We have a couple other patrons in other rooms but they shouldn't bother you. Just stick close by me."
They stood up after me, my inviting them closer to my side. After fidgeting with their hands a moment they took that invitation and I wrapped my bushy tail around their side. With this strange patron in tow we walked over to the door, my unlocking it and giving the handle a twist. Upon opening it I was greeted with the sight of my disgruntled mom.
Ah, right. I'd written that note. Maybe that was a bad idea, knowing her.
"Esmé, what the hell are you doing?" she asked, though it was much more like a statement.
My mom jumped and took a step back upon seeing my patron and they did the same, hiding behind me and cowering.
"Wh-Why is that thing here?" she snapped. "I told you to let it go."
"And I told you I was moving them downstairs," I snapped back. "I will not have them out on the damn streets."
"They are DANGEROUS, Esmé!" she hollered, her bright orange eyes fiery with rage. "Get that thing out of my house!"
"They are a person, not a thing, and they are not dangerous," I returned. "They need help and care, and I have no issue providing this. If you want them gone so badly then I will find somewhere else to live and work-- if they go, I go."
Perhaps a bit harsh to play on her emotions and empty nest syndrome, but she wasn't exempt from scrutiny just for being my parent. She looked to both of us, shook her head, and walked off without another word. Coexisting would be...interesting.
"I'm sorry about that," I said to the patron behind me, trying to coax them back to my side. "As loud and grumpy as she is, she won't hurt you, either."
With some hesitation they did come back to my side, their little hands balled up into loose fists up by their mouth as they constantly looked all around them. We turned around and closed the door before taking our first steps down the short hall. Even while glued to my side every little movement and noise had their eyes darting and head turning, a textbook symptom of fear corruption. It was strangely reassuring since they showed no violent tendencies, either.
We made it to the kitchen and I sat them down at the small table we kept. It was pretty close to the utilities so they seemed to mind the physical distance less than if I had left them back in their room. They sat quietly and patiently as I cracked some eggs into a bowl and beat them before cutting some green onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes on a cutting board. At first they seemed nervous with my handling a knife, but relaxed a little when they saw it meet food and then get put in the sink once I was done.
I put some butter in a skillet and tossed in the onions, getting them nice and translucent before adding the tomatoes and mushrooms. While those things heated up I quickly tore a bunch of spinach and added it to the hot pan, mixing everything around to distribute the heat. Some salt, some pepper, some garlic, and a couple other seasonings later the kitchen smelled strongly of savory vegetables and spices. I looked behind me to see the patron attempting to see into the pan at what I was doing, so I motioned them to come closer. Nervous as usual but ultimately giving in they stood up and shuffled over to me, my bringing my tail back around them as my hands were occupied.
When everything in the pan was how I wanted it I added the beaten eggs, layering the thick yellow liquid evenly over the rest of the things in the skillet. While on low heat I covered it all with a glass lid to cook on its own for a short time.
"Hey, do you like cheese?" I asked as I reached for the icebox.
They gave me a little nod as I looked back.
"Good answer," I smiled, picking through the contents of the icebox.
I found a decent cheddar cheese and set it on the cutting board, grabbing the knife once more to cut some slices off the end. With a small pile of cheese slices waiting for later I returned the knife to the sink. I had a few more minutes before I could do much else so I grabbed a couple plates and glasses to set aside, then an apple to halve and split between us.
All the while I worked I wondered if this stranger would ever speak, or if they even could. At the very least it would be nice to get a name so I knew how to refer to them, but I didn't want to push them into anything. So far I was happy enough they were willing to trust me, especially with such a horrible condition.
We spent the last few minutes in silence, waiting for the food to cook through enough to add the cheese. Once it had I topped it with the slices and returned the lid to the pan.
"Should only take another minute or two, then it'll be ready," I said. "You can sit back down at the table if you'd like."
They looked awkwardly to their side.
"Of course, you don't have to," I said further, not too surprised by their reaction.
Soon everything was finished and I topped a plate with half of everything, both the contents of the pan and the apple from before. I poured them a tall glass of milk and handed both that and the full plate to them to sit down at the table. Slowly they retreated back to the table, waiting patiently for me after sitting down. I soon joined them with my own food and beverage, sitting across from them at the little table. They wouldn't eat until I started eating, but I was happy enough to see them feed their tiny frame. With enough decent food they'd be able to put a little weight on, or at least revitalize their hair and fur from how dry and brittle it currently seemed.
Though it was silent while we ate it was nice to see them eating and appear a bit more at-ease being here and in my company. They'd often look up at me just to quickly look away, as though to gauge my intents or read my thoughts. At least they didn't seem bothered.
When everything was eaten I quickly washed up the dishes, the patron still sitting at the little table in wait. I dried and put away everything as to not irritate my mom further lest she try to find more things to pointlessly fight about. With how the short-term future was looking I just hadn't the mental stamina for it.
"Would you mind helping me with some chores today?" I asked, wrapping the dish towel around a drawer handle. "I'd like to get some laundry done while it's nice enough outside to dry things. There should be a patron leaving this morning so I'll also be grabbing the bedding and towels from that room."
They gave me a little nod and I reached out my hand for them to take. Once their soft little hand met mine we ventured back out into the hallway and to the laundry room. I grabbed the wash bucket, dumping in a scoop of soap and turning on the tap to hose water from the faucet to the bucket on the floor. Without my asking they already went and added the dirty clothes from last night to the hot water. I added a couple things here and there I hadn't gotten a chance to wash yesterday before turning off the water and taking a seat on a stool. They grabbed a stool of their own and we both set forth to scrub the rain-drenched clothes. Having someone to help me made the chore go that much faster and it made me wonder.
After only about ten minutes everything was finished in the wash bucket, my taking the scrubbed clothes and rinsing them off in the sink to free them of suds. I set those things aside in the other sink, hoisting up the heavy bucket to dump the spent water. The water was opaque and a sickly yellow-brown, carrying weeks, if not months of sweat and dirt. Just...how long had this person been out on their own like this? They came with nothing but a wallet so those were the only clothes to their name. I'd have to see about getting some clothes of their own so they wouldn't be stuck living in our sleepwear.
"Could you fill the bucket back up while I get that patron's used laundry?" I asked, putting the bucket back on the floor. "Just a scoop of soap from that box and fill it to the marked line with hot water. It's easier to use the hose so you don't have to lift the bucket as much. That water was way too dirty to reuse."
They looked to their side, seemingly out of shame for how dirty the water had been. I put my hand upon their head.
"Hey, don't worry about it," I reassured. "Those things are clean now and that's what matters. I'm gonna go grab that dirty laundry, so just wait here. I'll be right back."
I left in a flash, going as fast as I could to strip that bed and grab the towels from the bathroom. Normally I'd bring new bedding and such with me but I thought it might be easier and faster if they helped with that. After only a couple minutes I returned with a bunch of laundry, dumping it all in the bucket as it filled and retrieving new sets of everything from the cabinets. Behind me they stood up to turn off the water as the level reached the line.
"While those soak, would you like to help me put that room back together?" I asked, closing the cabinets. "These things go a lot faster with help and I appreciate it."
They looked to me and gave me a tiny, shy smile. Close to my side we walked back to that open room, closing it for some privacy before getting to work on dressing the bed and bathroom. While they put new cases on the pillows I sorted out the towels and cloths, quickly scrubbing down the shower and counter. With that much done I came back out and we both put sheets on the bed, this bit much easier with two people given how big the futons were. Before going back to the laundry room I wiped down the nightstand and table, everything taking only half the usual time. While I didn't mind my job it was nice when things went faster.
Things resumed in an oddly familiar manner. While we'd get seasonal workers on occasion I still generally worked alone, those workers choosing instead to man the front desk. This patron seemed plenty willing to help me do things even with their scraped hands and feet, as long as they could be by me and, perhaps, prove that they weren't dangerous. Their mouth spoke no words but those big eyes said volumes in a way I couldn't really fully describe.
'I'm not dangerous.'
'I won't hurt you.'
'I'm scared.'
'Please don't leave me.'
'I'm sorry.'
They'd been such a shy and gentle person from the start and each passing minute I dreaded the thought of them being left out in the elements that much more. The current situation was already difficult, their occupying a room meant for customers. The solution seemed simple, but I just knew my mom would pitch a fit at the mere mention of housing them upstairs with us. My mind was tangled up with thoughts and possibilities of what should be done while I hung up or took down laundry from the line, made meals, and otherwise passed the day.
However, after every little thing we did together -- simple chores, cooking, putting away laundry -- I noticed more of that red fluid leaking from their eyes. Just being around someone who wouldn't hurt them, but instead treat them like a person, seemed to help on its own.
---
As the hours passed, as the days passed, they seemed to smile a little more and flinch a little less. What had started as a tension around my heart had been more or less completely replaced with that gentle humming, something I took as a sign of their level of comfort. I'd read in some texts that the corrupted can have interesting effects on the energies of other nearby people so maybe that's what it was.
My mom seemed unhappy with my choices but seemed to understand that I wasn't going to budge, not bothering with fights about it at least thus far. Maybe the time I spent with this patron gave her the time and solitude needed to reflect on what I was doing and why. I understood -- or so I thought, anyway -- why she was so protective. That wasn't what I blamed her for, and to even say 'blame' is harsh and not really true. We'd experienced some horrible days due to my dad and his condition and that experience was the knowledge she was going by. She loved me and didn't want to see me get hurt, and to her all people with this condition were dangers to society and that's why they'd get pushed out of that society. I needed to prove to her somehow that this just wasn't true, this small patron tailing me and helping me with work and chores.
Could it all just be an act? Sure, that was possible, but something being possible doesn't make it likely. Maybe I was too trusting or too feeling-- this was, after all, a complete stranger. Even so, though, we took in complete strangers daily to stay at our inn, trusting them to keep to themselves and treat staff kindly. It was hard for me to see much of a difference between these things.
There finally came a night when I couldn't take leaving them downstairs anymore. They still needed help and had extreme difficulty sleeping if I were not by them in some way. I didn't mind sharing a bed, but it would maybe be better to do this in a real residence so I could free the room. I bit my lip in thought, wondering how this would go.
"Hey there," I softly called as I opened the door. "I've, uh, got a proposition for you."
They turned to face me as they sat upon the futon, hugging their knees to their front with their tail wrapped tightly around themselves.
"It's been about a week or so, right?" I asked, having lost track of the time.
Their ears slunk back and nose turned down to face elsewhere. That tension returned to my heart and I already knew what they were thinking.
"Whoa, now, just hang on," I said. "I'm not throwing you out or anything of the sort, okay?"
Their head and ears stayed low but their gaze slowly crept back up to mine.
"I didn't mean to scare you with that, I'd just lost track of the past few days," I awkwardly said. "No, um, what I wanted to ask was if you'd...want to, er, live upstairs with my mom and I? In return you'd work here with me as a housekeeper."
Those short ears slowly returned to their erect position.
"If it helps, the work doesn't involve dealing with patrons directly. We don't do anything with their rooms until they leave and new patrons aren't allowed in those rooms until we leave. You won't have to worry much about being seen with this condition. I...think there's a place in town where I could get you some concealers, but they take a few days to make."
Even from where I stood I could see their big eyes welling up.
"Does...Does this seem alright to you?" I proposed. "Sorry if it's weird or anything, but it would free up a room and you could live in a real residence."
I walked over to the bed and held out my hand.
"You'll have a real home of your own."
They freed a hand from the grip on their knees to carefully take mine. I helped them up and off the bed, then out to the hall. Turning quickly to shut off the lights and lock the door we then traversed the hall, ascended the stairs, and soon we were at my front door. With a little sigh to brace myself I opened the door, my mom lying on the couch with a book in her hands.
"...Why?" was all she could say.
"Mom, please just...listen to me for once," I said, closing the door behind us. "I'm not a child anymore and this is the least you could do."
"Fine," she heavily, dramatically sighed, putting her book down. "What is it?"
"By now I think you realize they pose no threat to either of us," I said, trying my best not to seem mocking. "They've been kind and helpful, even aiding me with my work and chores. I think it would be nice to...house them here with us in exchange for working here."
"Working here?" she repeated. "How? What if patrons see them?"
"They'd be working as a housekeeper with me," I responded. "I don't deal with patrons and so neither would they. I was going to put in an order for concealers when I find the place that makes them, so if you're really that worried then employment can wait the entire three or so days it takes to make them."
"Do we even have the space?" she went further, even knowing what a dumb question that was.
I didn't even grace that question with a verbal response, just a tired, unamused stare. There were at one point three people living here, so three people living here was probably not a concern.
"Dammit, fine," she finally relented. "Where are you planning on keeping them?"
"My room, preferably," I said. "I don't have a lot of stuff so there's plenty of space."
She looked at me, then at them, then at me again and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh my god," I said under my breath, taking my guest by the hand back to my room.
As I walked by the couch I could hear my mom giggle.
Once in my room I closed the door and tried to figure out some means of a living arrangement. I sorted the clothes in my dresser to free up some space for when I could get clothes of their own. It wouldn't be high living but it was a home, and unlike an inn room it actually felt like a home.
"Alright, once we get you some clothes you can keep them in here, otherwise help yourself to whatever," I said, grabbing a measuring tape from atop the dresser. "First, though, I want to get some measurements so I know what to look for. I'll be getting you at least a change or two of clothes before the concealers are done so I'd be going on my own."
They looked nervous, but stood still so I could get some measurements. Dealing with the pants first I had them help with the inseam, my writing the values on a small piece of paper. Once that was done I tended to the shirt size, and this close with the tape I could finally see how flat their chest was even if their shoulders were also rather narrow. I didn't ask about it and instead just wrote the values alongside the ones for the pants.
"Okay, that'll come in handy for tomorrow," I said, putting the paper by a set of clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Do you, uh, mind if I ask you a couple questions?"
They stood stiffly in wait, as though put on the spot, with their tail wrapped around their legs.
"Nothing bad, honey, just things that'll help me out a bit," I assured.
They didn't budge, but waited.
"I'm...not sure how is best to ask this, but...are you, uh, male or female?" I awkwardly asked, rubbing the back of my neck. "I really don't mean to offend."
Their short ears raked back and their gaze turned to the floor. If I could hazard a guess I was probably not the first one to ask that and I felt pretty horrible for not being able to tell.
"...I'm sorry, I really don't know how to ask that kind of question and I just want to be respectful," I said, trying my best to sound as genuine as my intent. "Um, can you speak? You haven't said a word since you got here. It's okay if you can't, just...asking, is all."
"...I'm a boy," came a rather high voice.
"Oh, you can speak," I noted the obvious. "I didn't mean to make you upset or anything."
"...I don't like my voice," he said, tugging on a sleeve. "People hear it and...think I'm a woman."
"Aw, I think you sound just fine," I replied. "I'm glad to finally know what you sound like."
He didn't respond, just tugged more on that sleeve.
"How old are you?" I asked, tilting my head. "I'd guess younger than me but I've been wrong before."
"...Eighteen," he softly said.
"Ah, so a little younger then," I thought aloud. "I'm nineteen. Uh, where are you from? I don't think I've seen you around here before."
"...F-Falun," he answered.
That was all I needed to know. I'd heard awful things about Falun over the years, a town about forty miles north of here. It was one of those towns overrun by supremacist groups and with his being a pure type I had no doubt he was caught up in it. I think living around that would drive just about anyone to his kind of state, though I couldn't shake the feeling there was more to it. It was something in his eyes and demeanor, maybe even extending to his physical appearance in some way, that seemed to hint at a deeper matter. I didn't want to pry, though, and thought it would be best to let him talk about those things on his own when he was comfortable.
"...I'm very sorry to hear that, honey," I said, "but I'm glad you made it all the way here. I hope it's helped you at least a little bit."
He slowly nodded.
"Do you know much about your condition?" I inquired, patting a space on the bed just beside me.
He didn't answer, but took the invitation to sit by me.
"This condition happens when someone's soul has too much negative energy," I recalled from my studies. "Everyone has at least a little bit of it, but if the energy in one's soul turns too negative they develop the condition you're experiencing. If left alone it can get worse."
I put my arm around him and pulled the little man against my side.
"Thing is, energy can't be created or destroyed, but it can be transferred or transformed," I remembered from other studies. "The energy of the soul isn't really much different. Just as it can tip one direction, it can do the same in the other."
"...It's...not permanent?" he said against my side, just barely above a whisper.
"It's not permanent," I repeated, petting through his hair. "It will take time and a lot of work, but it's a recoverable condition. If you're willing to work with me I'm willing to work with you, okay?"
"...Okay."
"And just so you know, that red liquid that comes out of your eyes sometimes? That's the negative energy neutralizing. It's a sign of healing. You've already started your recovery."
I looked down as his lips curled into a little smile.
"I know you don't really know me, but I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?" I leaned my face against his head.
"...Y-You're really nice," he softly said. "...Thank you."
I gave him a little squeeze before lying back on my bed, his following after my invitation. The little man curled up against my side, his head about chest level. Turning onto that side I pulled him into my front, my chin resting atop his head. I couldn't help but smile a little to myself over this strange situation, how inseparable he was from my side.
That was not likely to end soon, was it?
I'd started to nod off, but remembered a question I wanted to ask.
"What's your name?" I asked my new roommate.
With that soft, high voice he'd speak:
"...M-My name is..."
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KynikossDragonn
Memberwow, what is the small man's name!
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