Chapter Text
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Warm.
His body was warm. Not uncomfortably, like when you just woke up from a vivid nightmare and sweat sticks the sheer layers of clothing to you. More of a low hum radiating through his body, traveling through every fiber of his being. The tingling sensation engulfed him whole, making Ralph shiver, despite the pleasant waves of heat panging through him. This moment was one he would try to engrave into his brain. He’d never been a fan of sickeningly sweet heat. Ralph began to deter from it entirely upon his return. Something about the thickness in the air when it was humid sent him to dark corners of his mind he was trying to run away from. But one can’t run forever. And this, the warmth, felt nice.
He could’ve sat in front of the burning embers infinitely. Watching the low glow of the flames crawl up the walls, illuminating the plain wallpaper with showers of golden and fiery red. He could’ve sat there forever, watching the flames devour the wooden logs whole. Watching as the material slowly fell off in chunks of ash.
But he tore his eyes away, ignoring the persistent hum of protest in his body. Ralph slowly uncrossed his aching legs, bringing himself up off the velvet cushion he had lain across the floor. The fire dwindled, earning a long stare from the fair boy. It was so alive for something that wasn’t living at all.
“Mr. Allebach.” A cold voice pierced through the comfortable silence Ralph had built around him. It tore him painfully from his own mind and grounded him back on Earth. Back into the dull parlor that was shrouded in darkness besides the soft light reflecting from the fireplace. Perhaps it was for the better that the tall man stood in the doorway, features shown due to the bright end of a cigar that dangled from his lips. The man straightened his jacket, exhaling smoke softly as he pushed the cigar into his fingers.
“Your father requests your presence tonight.” Ralph took a ragged breath in, pausing momentarily, letting the crushing feeling of no air in his lungs remind him of where he was. Who he was. The dark figure swept across the room, flicking a light switch on, letting the room fill with the yellow glow. The walls that were already so plain in darkness looked positively barren when one could see them all simultaneously. Newspapers on otherwise empty desks were the only knick knack to be seen, if it could even be called that. The fair boy made a move to push the buttoned cushion back into place, but was waved off by the man.
“Go. I will put the room back in order.” Ralph nodded solemnly, pursing his cracked lips, letting the deep crevices run over each other before retreating out of the parlor. The glass doors creaked when he whisked past, the common sound filling his ears. His father must have needed him for something urgent, or he wouldn’t have summoned Ralph at an hour bordering the beginning of the darkness the night held.
The walk up to his father's office was silent and painful. His bones ached with some sort of desire. Possibly desire for a certain series of words that his father would tell him. It was all Ralph wanted to hear for days, weeks, months. But he pushed any hope flooding into his head to the back, locking it away and throwing the key into a black lake of regret.
The beige paper decorated with faded roses was lit in certain sections by the dulled flames of wax candles. The melting substance dripped slowly down the metal frame, almost like a skeleton to hold up the stick. Ralph reached out to touch the wax, hissing in pain as the heat burnt his fingertips. Nursing his now reddened fingers, Ralph gently laid 2 knocks on the wooden door that led to the office he’d come to know so well. A muffled voice on the other side let out a giggle, sending a shot of anxiety through his veins.
“Come in.” A calm voice said, not matching the laugh that had just rung through the corridor. His father wasn’t alone. That was painfully obvious. Nonetheless, Ralph turned the intricately carved metal knob and was greeted with the cold glow of moonlight in his father's office. The man in question stood at the generously sized desk, fingertips grazing a stack of ruffled papers, all of which had writing scrawled lazily on them.
As for the other voice, it belonged to a middle aged woman. She had chestnut brown hair with grey sneaking into certain strands. Smile lines decorated her milky white skin, making her appearance ethereal in the light of the moon. In addition to every other aspect of her, she had glowing blue eyes that Ralph couldn’t seem to look away from. She gave the fair boy a warm smile before walking over to meet his father, heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
“Son. This is Mrs. Martin. She will be the one who picks you up tomorrow to take you to Beaminster.” Ralph’s ocean blue eyes widened in shock, his brain not fully processing the crisp words that had left his father’s lips. Beaminster. The school he’d been pestering his father to let him transfer to for all those months. He was finally going to leave this dark and dreary mansion.
“You mentioned something about your friend Peter going there. I looked into it and I agree, a Christian school is definitely what’s best for you.” His father’s calloused fingers straightened the stack of floppy papers, grunting slightly as they folded over on each other. The man grabbed a paper clip and slid it gracefully on the upper edge of the assortment of what Ralph could only assume was acceptance sheets. The fair boy stiffened his body, trying his hardest not to show any relief or euphoria in the presence of his father. When he was dismissed to his room, he’d celebrate. For now, the fair boy rooted his feet in place and kept the edges of his lips as straight as he could.
“Thank you for taking into consideration my choice, father.” Ralph’s voice was broken, cracking at the end of his sentence. The boy just cleared his throat quickly, earning himself a look of disapproval from the older man standing in front of him. The woman on his left either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to be bothered, swiftly taking the sheets from Ralph’s father and placing them in the black purse strewn across her shoulder. Her hardened gaze met the fair boy’s and the color shifted from an icy blue to a softer, baby blue. She pressed her lips together in a hard line, rubbing in the red pigment smeared across them.
“Mr. Allebach I will arrive at 8 am sharp. You and your belongings should be present at the base of your driveway. I highly suggest you bring some sort of entertainment, the drive is 20 minutes.” Ralph’s father dismissed the boy with a sharp wave of his hand, leaning over Mrs. Martin’s shoulder and whispered something softly into her ear. She nodded, as if the woman had understood what he informed her of before the words had passed through the older man’s lips. Maybe she had. Curiosity tinged in the back of his brain, but Ralph chose to ignore the pull of desire for the unspoken knowledge and gently shut the towering dark oak door, suddenly coming face to face with the swirled design, clearly carved with a delicate hand. The dulled pain from the burn on his finger returned, reminding him of the first layer of skin that had been singed off.
The teenage boy took a cautious step back, breathing lightly so his father wouldn’t hear the noise and assume he had been eavesdropping. Ralph crept back down the hall, elongated red runner stretching for what seemed to be miles down the dark corridor. The fabric was plush, melting and molding to fit the creases of Ralph’s tattered Converse, submerging the dirt stained rubber rim entirely. The soft decoration muffled the steps the boy was taking, as if it was telling him that he needed to be quiet, as the house was asleep.
The old grandfather clock at the T section of the hall struck the hour, signaling it was 22:00. A familiar clink of heels followed the obnoxiously loud chime, sending Ralph speeding down the hall and to the door that led to his room. The footsteps slowly disappeared down to the other end of the hall, a heavy pair trailing after. The fair boy decided to sleep on it, knowing he’d have to wake up and go to the school that his father forbade him from for too long. A sliver of him had hope that he’d be free from some restrictions usually burdened upon his shoulders and get some time to relax. Maybe even meet a lass.
The more he thought about it, the more repulsive the idea of meeting a special someone felt. Just the mere image of his lips brushing lightly against someone else’s that eventually turned into a hungry need for each other made his stomach turn in disgust. Ever since the island, he’d seen humans in a different way. He’d begun to believe that every human was inherently evil and hungry for power. No, not hungry. Starving. People craved the feeling of being above all the rest. Of having control over everything. They craved it so badly they would go to any and every extent to achieve it.
Ralph felt his tongue run over the cracked portion of his lips, leaving a humming feeling of pain where saliva met dried blood. He swallowed hard, pushing his body to ignore the tightening feeling in his chest. His breathing quickened at an alarming rate before spiking back down to the slow and controlled rhythm he had before Ralph let himself remember that god forsaken island. The warning drum that pounded in his ears faded into the background, replaced with the sound of tires hitting asphalt.
He longed for the feeling of exhaustion to hit him, it was later than he’d anticipated being up and the day had dragged on, eventually guiding him to the fireplace in the parlor. Instead, his body cried out for the sting of cold air hitting his cheeks, reminding him that he hadn’t died on the dry sand that day. However, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, a part of him had. A part of him was trapped within the coast of the humid air and thick forest. And he desperately wanted it back.
Ralph decided that pulling on his night clothes and staring at the ceiling would suffice for the next couple of hours. It was painfully boring, counting all the cracks and raised areas. But it took his mind off of anything else but the steadily increasing number of small divots in the left corner. He reached his hand out slowly, mapping out the small bumps with his fingers, which looked abnormally pale in the blue glow of the moon. The small moles that decorated his skin grew dark, appearing almost black instead of the brown they usually looked like. The mark that rested on the base of his right ring finger held a splattered appearance, like he was a canvas that someone had accidentally spilled paint on.
Almost out of instinct, he began to count the freckles that were strewn across his skin, never in clumps. The fair boy had small spots on his skin, not moles but not quite freckles. Just little brown marks across his skin. The boy ended up counting 43 freckles before falling into a dreamless slumber.
Ralph awoke to the screeching sound of curtains being dragged along metal poles. His first instinct was to cover his ears with his palms, filling the area with the unsettling warmth of his hands.
“Mr. Allebach, you have 2 hours before Mrs. Martin will arrive to take you to Beaminster. Your uniform is laid out next to the shower, please bathe immediately so you can have a final breakfast with your father.” The woman in front of him dusted her charcoal stained hands against the white apron wrapped tightly around her waist. The fabric stained grey, finger smudges strikingly obvious. The woman’s face flushed a deep shade of pink, quickly exiting his room, almost as if she had made a mistake and was going to be punished. Perhaps she had, Ralph wouldn’t know. He wasn’t exactly one to believe sudden gestures could be immoral or wrong, unlike his father. The fair boy figured he shouldn’t keep the man waiting and gently removed the thin wool blanket that someone, most likely the woman from before, had laid across his body. It was scratchy, leaving white lines behind on the bare parts of his skin. Ralph gently sat the blue fabric on the edge of his bed, folding it upon itself so the maids would have one less thing to stress over.
He bathed quickly, trying not to stare at his own soft figure before pulling the uniform on, one garment at a time. The deep navy of the jacket made his eyes appear stormy, like a ticking bomb that could explode at any moment. Ralph just shoved the sudden darker appearance of his eyes to the side and straightened the red and navy tie hanging around his neck. There was no doubt about it, Ralph didn’t look like the boy he thought he was. He looked much more formal, almost as if he had been attending private schools his whole life and never seen what the blue eyes looking back at him had. The fair boy’s throat tightened as the memories flooded his mind, clouding over any rational thoughts he could possibly have. The distant smell of smoke from a signal fire, low groans in the throats of young boys, unaware of what was to come, howls in the darkness coming from a boy who was slowly losing his sanity, the screams of tortured children gradually involuntarily letting go of their innocence.
The clock chimed, grounding the fair boy and reminding him that he had a meal to attend to. He might not eat a healthy amount, but his father wouldn’t bat an eye. He was fully aware that when the fair boy chose not to eat it was because he had just recovered from another episode. Sometimes the older man showed sympathy for his son, gently tucking a strand of his sandy blond hair behind his ear and softly telling him that he was okay and right where he needed to be. Other times, he’d huff in annoyance, ranting about how the young boy needed to move on and take control of his life. Luckily, today was the former. Ralph gently dragged the dining chair across from his father back, mumbling excuses about returning to the island. The man nodded solemnly, sending a look of worry his son’s way. Ralph gave him a small smile, corners of his mouth upturning in an anxious way. Almost as if the younger boy was scared of making the wrong face and angering his father.
“The school provides you with a roommate. One boy. I requested you be in a dorm, alone.” His father’s words were crisp, with no room for an argument from Ralph. “I figured it would help keep your. . . condition a secret for now.”
The fair boy understood what his father was trying to imply behind the cold words and painfully sharp edge to his voice. Ralph had been suffering from night terrors ever since his return, the memories coming back to haunt him until he woke up screaming, sheets tangled around his legs, trapping him in the tight twist of fabric.
No, he’d never thought of the nights where he couldn’t close his eyes in fear as normal. Ralph had never heard of a boy his age who suffered so endlessly once the sun sank below the horizon. Somehow, he persisted through the cold sweats and fingernail marks digging into his palms. He hadn’t really thought about how the flashbacks would affect his life in a stay away school. He tried not to think of them most times, straying away from the island in the hours in which he wandered about, serving no purpose in cruel honesty.
“I believe that is the best choice father.” Ralph pressed his lips together until it was painful, slowly releasing and letting the plush skin return to its original form.
“Katrina will be here soon. You are dismissed.” With a wave of a calloused hand, Ralph had pushed back the wood chair he was seated in and exited the dining room, a pit of emptiness in his stomach growing steadily. He couldn’t help the growing shakiness to his usually calm stance. His hands had begun to tremble wildly, forcing the fair boy to swallow despite the lump in his throat.
He settled on waiting at the end of the pavement, fingers tracing over the bones in his kneecap, a tattered brown suitcase’s corner pressing into his ribcage. His torn nails found the edge of a sticker plastered sloppily on the beige fabric, picking at it softly. The sticker itself was from Venice, the famous city drawn in the light of the setting sun. Most likely then mass produced to help make revenue. Faded words were printed on the white edges, illegible as time had worn them down. Nimble fingers moved to the leather handle, one that was hanging on just barely by a metal bar. Ralph traced the brand label printed on the case, carefully examining each divot thoroughly.
The fair boy shivered, knowing this wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be thinking this intricately about a couple pieces of fabric. He couldn’t help but believe this was how other, normal people, thought about the people in their lives. Devoting themselves to every crevice of another's personality - their defining traits - like it was the most important thing in the world to them. Like it was all that mattered in that moment.
“Mr. Allebach. If you’ve finished caressing your suitcase with such meaning, we can get ready to leave.” Ralph felt his face flush, making Mrs. Martin let out a small chuckle. His mother used to tell him when he blushed his face turned a pretty shade of pink.
The fair boy stuttered out an apology, gathering his belongings and handing them to a burly man, who stuffed them in the back of a black vehicle. Ralph had seen cars like this in movies, ones such as James Bond, but had never really set foot in one before. Not that he’d ever really been in a car. The boy took the bus most days, suffering in silence as some old man who smelled suspiciously of sweet perfume tried to explain the suspicioous scent to his seemingly devoted wife. He would let his tired legs become exhausted as he held onto the pole so tightly his knuckles became white.
“Ma’am, am I supposed to..?” Ralph let his question remain unfinished, Mrs. Martin smiling brightly at his implication. The man beside her cleared his throat loudly, making his way to the driver’s side of the car.
“You may enter the car Mr. Allebach. I’m assuming you’re not quite used to luxury?” Ralph shook his head no in small movements. Despite living in what most considered to be a mansion, he spent the majority of his time locked away in his room or staring at the fire in the parlor. The house felt like it consisted of those two rooms alone, as the rest of the rooms were forbidden to him.
The interior of the vehicle was a cool grey, seats warmed from the heat the sun was providing. Mrs. Martin slid in the seat in front of him, facing the boy.
“If you have any questions, please ask. My son attends Beaminster as well, so he can answer things as well.” Ralph nodded, wondering if she was going to tell him who her son was. It’d be quite difficult to find the boy with no name given to him.
“He’s the son of my first husband. Our last names aren’t the same, obviously. As I remarried.” The lady stared at the window, tears forming in her eyes. The name of her son hit Ralph like a ton of bricks to the chest.
“Jack Merridew.”