Chapter Text
“I’ve already told you, my name is Dr. Sylvester Ashling.”
He muttered under his breath, “I came in here for a broken wrist.”
“Anything else?“
“No. Nothing else happened, like you saw that night, I had..“ He gazed at his crutch. “Come earlier that day. I just happened to fall asleep. That’s when everything went down.”
“Alright so I believe that’s all I need.”
He nodded to the blond officer, taking a moment as she left before looking out the window. It had been a long time since the last trip to the hospital. Training an epithet as powerful as drowsy, had caused a few accidents. Mostly while using Beefton.. He apprenticed the minotaur to an extent but- some things are just better left to be a last resort. Years of practice and meticulous work, conjuring nightmare fuel, concensided with his research the bags under his eyes where always present.
It had also been a day since the incident.
Since his epithet had been returned by the bumbling buffoon who smelled of warm soup. The feeling. He couldn’t quite comprehend it yet. He pushed himself off the bed. Grabbing his coat from where he laid it. An extra night at the hospital truly had not hurt him physically. Mentally was another story. Sylvie stumbled to the elevator.
The day dragged on as he checked out going back home.
The late afternoon sun gently glazed the industrial scenery. Light grappling onto the short buildings before clawing its way up the taller skyscrapers. People drifting by like leaves in a stirred pond. Only one in five of them, inscribed. A miracle was to be inscribed. To be born with a gift that could change fate itself.
Who would ever want to get rid of that? Who would give an object the power to take an inscribed destiny away. Despicable was the only way to describe their pursuit of the amulet, the lady with shattered glass, the barrier man, and himself. Sylvie shook his head and realized his actions could have revoked his license. The only innocent being that girl, Molly.
He sighed, passing by the supposed shop she had suggested she worked at. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if she had made it up but yet the card seemed to be right.
The cracking building chewed out by time, and remains of some flaminal trauma.
He gazed past the darkened windows catching a glimpse of Molly. She sat at a small table. Tired. Her eye bags are fresh and prudent. Though she was still smiling. He could see why the man- Giovanni called her something involving bears. The brown sweater slowly worn by time, took a short likening to a bear cub. It’s fluff probably provided a comfort of sorts.
His eyes searched for more clues, though the sun glare was harshly prudent. Molly was just chatting away somly looking down to the detective and the table. An empty coffee cup lay vacantly on the counter top, next to some misplaced coins. Toys scattered everywhere from the hustle and bustle of customers. Except the red object encased by a distant door. He took off his glasses, running them on his hoodie. Dusting them quickly with a gentle shene putting them back on his face. Catching a better sight of the red object. Sylvester choked when he spotted the extra fire extinguishers. They were everywhere. One on the corner of the store attached to the wall, when he had looked inside there was one behind Molly.
That no..no..oh god.
He sprinted off down the road as the thoughts chased after.
Offen after trauma- people would develop personal quirks. Keeping things that could potentially protect them close. A stuffed toy, a pet, comfort music- fire extinguisher.
Flaming hot fire could destroy and take. He could have unearthed- he did unearth the trauma.
Sylvester pinched his yo-yo harder in his pocket, grasping for the string. Pulling it out still under his coat sleeve and clutching it. Pitching it up and down as his stamina ran out, and his focus came back.
Sylvie continued on his way home turning down a road near the college. Signs and billboards adorned the brown boxy building saying “For Rent.” Cardboard left to rot on the streets near alleyways. Being a careful man he went up to any suspicious box looking for abandoned animals. Every once in a while on his daily walk to and from his office and the collage he’d spot a lost dog, stray cat, sometimes even a housebound rabbit who’d been released. As this had happened enough times he never forgot to remind himself to put out some water, and cheap canned food by the nearest alleyway. Swiftly walking over to said alleyway, he stood by the two metallic bowels he’d put out. They were surprisingly good for the night each half full. He smiled a little bit finding that there were no strays today and continued on his way into the building.
“That’s just how cities are, unless you’re at the top you owe your wellbeing to society.”
He thought to himself, climbing his way up the open jaded staircase. The long drawn cracks caused by hundreds of reasons gazed back at the “kid” through their peeping ant infested eyes.
Sylvie nodded to himself after recognizing his office number. He took the keys from his deep pocket unlocking his door.
“Click.”
The door sang as he pushed it shut again. Repeating the quick click of the same lock. The light cocoa room stood bathed in orange and pink light. Hints of yellow clinging onto his trinkets, stray pens, his empty coffee cup and maker, and the breaking ac fan he kept. He could have probably bought a new one, but it was more cost efficient. Oftentimes due to the cost of electricity and the already dubis quality he kept his office's lights off. Including the even cheaper computer who was basically on life support at that time. It was an old thing, got it at a garage sale for less than it was worth. But even though it worked and wasn’t as slow as he thought. Maybe it was a learned habit, maybe it wasn’t. It probably was. Some things from one's childhood just stick. He went around his desk slouching under it to get to the hidden mini fridge. Seeing that it was in fact barely living again just like everything else. But it kept the food room temperature so why bother fixing what’s not broken? Scattered chinese food, laid next to the half full soda, and full milk.
Standard kibble food shoved right next to the fridge. He wasn’t sure if the hunger was real or just his body complaining. But he let it be and got himself some of the Chinese food, smelling it quickly to check the rice. He brought it to the rickety heater/ac, setting it near the floor waiting for it to cook. Sylvester rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling himself slip out of the day haze.
He planted himself on the couch tiredly mumbling, “Counting sheep.”
Smiling as one appeared before him, by the looks of it, dark orange coat, brown horns, large light freckles, it was Freud. He sighed, patting his lap. Freud waddled over flinging itself onto him.
“Good boy..” He yawned, putting Freud as his pillow. Curling up into a tight knit ball Sylvester settled to sleep upon his sheep. Freud’s warm wool softly comforted him as he slept.
The next morning was a blur. Freud had faded by the time he woke back up. Sylvie sat up uncurling from his sleepy ball. Still realizing that he had not changed his clothes. He huffed going behind his desk to dig around for his CDs. Scanning his shelf still half asleep.
“The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”, The Social Animal, 1984, Greek Myths and legends…” He read softly to himself skipping a few titles in between, “Ahh here we go.” Sylvie came upon his CD collection of “Frasier.”
Only having the first five seasons physically he had tried his best to collect the other six who were missing. Hours in between his bi-weekly apportionments had been spent on E-bay looking for them. He took the fourth case out, found a quick episode summary and then carried it over to his desk. Sliding it into his old rotting computer disk’s port.
“To Kill a Talking Bird'' started quietly in the background as he got ready for the day. Leaving the bathroom door open so he could hear it. He prepared to brush out the mat in his front brangs until seeing that his glasses cleaner was missing. Why bother styling his hair when he couldn’t even see the mirror. Sylvester huffed, failing to find his glasses cleaner on the sink stand. Leaning down to search under the hobbled cabinets for his glasses cleaner. Noticing that their rag had also run away.
“BEEP BEEP.”
Sylvester looked up, banging his head on the sink shelf.
“Oww..” He scrambled out the bathroom leaving the light on by mistake. Seeing his phone lit with a screeching alarm. “School Alarm” read on the white alert bar. Abandoning his mission to find the cleaner he groaned, grabbing his phone quickly and rushed to the door. Sprinting out the door almost caused him to forget his student ID. He tapped his pockets hastily trying to see if he’d brought it but no. Running swiftly back inside he snatched it from the desk and counter then locked the front door. At least the sleep had been good and even if he did feel well.. drowsy.. later he could easily put himself back to sleep. The walk down the stairs tripped and tumbled his already sporadic walk. Messing with him even further. Passing by the out door of the apartments he glimpsed the alleyway. Seeing that there was a rather fat pigeon eating from the bowl.
“Shoo shoo!”
He yelped digging out his yo-yo. When the bird didn’t flinch he quickly threw above the bird. Dusting off the gold dandruff on the animal. The pigeon slammed down into the bowl. He stifled a quick sneer before going back to his jog. The day flew by even faster than he actually got to school. Mumbled where Agilent was that day but he didn’t concern himself with the news that much. Deja vu of people looking at him as if he was somewhere he didn’t belong. Sure he was short- but he didn’t think was that short?
Maybe it was the pants, or his belt that made it more apparent that it already was a few inches below average of a man.. Even the thought of buying a bike set him off a little bit even though it would be faster to ride to school. It wasn’t totally just the cost of a bike as he could get a second hand or even further one. It was the appearance. What if he bought the wrong fit? What if it highlighted his height even more.. Sylvester shook his head realizing that he had ended up in one of the school bathrooms. Attempting to leave the stall his eyes latched onto the mirror. Picking apart how far he was from the purse hook on the door. A little too low for his comfort.. and how did he even get into the female bathroom. Did nobody even stop him or was he too deep in thought?
“Just breathe.. Sylvester just breathed. Maybe nobody stopped you because you were thinking too much? Too deep in your thoughts again.”
He shook again, pinching his yo-yo through his pocket. Gently reaching inside his pocket to grab the string. Slightly bumping against the fabric under his shirt. Rubbing again on the pressed down flesh. He perked out of the stall again going to lock the bathroom. Hearing the click, he slid off the furred coat, throwing it to the floor. Then off his orange hoodie, seeing that his binder was in fact slipping. Already the cheap bandages had begun to expire. It was an omen for him to buy an actual one. But getting a real authentic binder has not been an easy task. His apartments had a streak of people stealing packages and with something as personal as that it could ruin him. Finding a bigger secret then he’d like people to know about. He grumbled reaching around to the scratchy Velcro strap, and with one sharp tug pulled it too tight. But that didn’t matter.
Putting his clothes back over the binder
he left tucking down his head.
Again the day was another blur, sitting in the dark lecture hall, as the seminar went on. The dark was comforting however, he couldn’t see anything but the projecture board showing slides of new research. Unfortunately not very epithet related just some basic new philosophy research he already heard days earlier. Class to class, hour to hour, light shifting along with the time of day. Even lunch where he got to go “home” for an hour was nothing but a swift memory. The only thing standing out was the clattering of food in dishes he put in the alleyway. Refilling them for the afternoon flocks of new strays. What he had for lunch was another blur. Tasted somewhat good at least. Bland just like everything else.
He found himself in the twilight rain running late to coming home. The rain water soaking into his coat, bleaching it with the weather. Relieved, the boy stood letting it rain on him for a few moments as he finished the walk home. The crisp scent of rain snaking up through the usual smell of burning tar, and food. Even the not so far highway sounded distant compared to the rain. Not even thundering, or putting maximum effort it still drowned out everything about the world. Much like a nice dream.
During the turn home, a subtle meow broke through the muffling drizzle. He stopped looking at the alleyway. A small baby kitten stood pawing at the sleeping bird, hungry and presumably cold. He took out his yo-yo again, performing the same he did with the bird. Putting the kitten right into a tidy sleep. He walked over to the bowl, tapping the bird awake, then picking up the kitten by its scruff. From the looks of it, they were pure white with orange flakes around their paws. Large eye crusts needing cleaning, nails definitely requiring a trim. If he got its shots, and registered, this kitten could have a nice life in more than a few days. Sad thing was it was still a stray, most likely born from an alley cat who’d been distances away by now or it was purposely left near where he’d put the food. For its size couldn’t have carried it more than a few feet. Whatever the situation was it didn’t matter. All that mattered was it was getting help and going to get better.
He held it close to his chest, tucking the animal beneath his fur collar. Watching it closely pulse as the pair went up the apartment stairs to his office door. Kissing the soft kitten's head as he opened the door. The click never ringing. Laying it down on the fainting couch watching it’s fur contrast. Going behind his desk to get some milk from the mini fridge.
He carried it back over in one of his mugs, giving it to the kitten. But the little creature would not drink. Instead it hit the milk with a weak pay enough so it teetered over the edge.
“Cmon little fella, just make it through tonight.” Sylvie huffed, putting the mug on his small table. He then noticed his blinds were still open. He went back over behind his desk to close them. As his mind began to numb the world yet again, the door creaked.