Chapter Text
Mellow’s thirsty.
After everyone finished roasting marshmallows (or, in Mellow’s case, burning, he enjoyed the crunch) it was fairly late at night, the fire slowly flickering out despite Miss. Mirianne’s best sleep deprived attempts to keep it going. At one point she sent him- and after some thought Catthew as well after mumbling something about “adult supervision”- to collect what sparse sticks they could find outside in the cool desert wastes.
Though Mellow huffed about abandoning his second (admittedly far too burnt, even for him,) marshmallow, he liked when Miss. Mirianne entrusted him with important tasks. Like keeping them warm via his incredible stick collection skills. He wonders if she’d be open to the idea of giving him an allowance…
Nah, too much responsibility. He’s not ready to enter the economic world yet. Unless it’s with a million dollars, of course.
After Miss. Mirianne finally passed out, the rest of the stragglers Mellow had gathered soon followed. Being there was only two bedrooms, and Mellow having very adamantly claimed the loveseat for himself, everyone just sort of- spread out over the floor. Which couldn’t possibly be comfortable, even with the sparse blankets they managed to scrounge up to line the hard wooden ground with. It almost made Mellow feel guilty enough to feel like sharing.
Almost.
Anyway, the sound of soft breathing and less soft snoring filled the warm room, and Mellow was thirsty. Luckily, he knew that during their initial sweep of the house, basic utensils and flatware were found and thoroughly cleared of dust and grime by Ticketo and Catthews domestic washing moment, whatever domestic means, and subsequently placed on top of the fridge.
Mellow hesitated as he looked down at his friends sleeping at his feet. The house was pretty old, and during the day was accompanied by loud creaking as the brittle floorboards dealt with the abuse of several dozen people stomping around on them after years of disuse. He managed to memorize which boards were the creakiest when he went around exploring, so he shouldn’t wake anyone up if he was careful. Though he didn’t really trust his memory much these days, and he really didn’t want to ruin things here so soon by causing a ruckus…
Mellow violently shook his head. He’s no baby, he’s old enough to get himself a drink in the middle of the night without waking anyone up. He’s stealthed before. In fact, he’s stealthed past a police officer one time, and those are the guys that catch the stealthers.
Don’t think about what happened after.
He grabbed his hat from where he hung it on the back of the chair and pulled it over his head. It wasn’t like he was going outside or anything, he just found the familiarity of his hat comforting. He almost felt exposed without it.
Or maybe he found the small dent just a bit embarrassing. Who knows.
He slowly lowered his socked feet to the ground, using his hands on the armrests as leverage to soften his landing. After he finally hit the floor, it was only a matter of dodging around the sleeping lumps on the floor without notice. Fortunately, Ticketo was a fairly loud snorer, though it sounded more like strangled honking to be honest, and Mellow was able to time his steps accordingly as he climbed over the obstacle course that was the living room.
Huh. Living room obstacle course… That's a good idea. He’ll ask Miss. Mirianne about installing it in the morning. After she had her first cup of coffee, that is. Or her second.
After a close call involving Catthew suddenly stretching his body way longer than he physically should be able to, Mellow successfully snuck to the door of the dark kitchen without kicking a single person.
Easy dub. They should call him Mellow the parkour… fellow.
Work in progress.
He padded into the dark kitchen. He almost expected to feel the cold shock of tile beneath his feet, but he guesses the people who built this place were too lazy to use anything but the same rotting wood for anywhere but the bathroom. At least the checkered carpet gave the illusion of a semi normal kitchen floor.
Mellow craned his neck as high up as it could go, catching the faintest glimpse of a glass on top of the fridge. He tried jumping up and reaching in hope that he had gained super jumping skills overnight, but alas, he had not. Yet. He still held out hope for a lucrative basketball career.
It took a few seconds of contemplating before he decided what he needed to do. It was time to climb.
Mellow was a fairly good climber, he thinks. He made it up that rock climbing wall in Henry’s house lickety split after his 4th try and a few bruises, he can climb up on top of a fridge easy peasy. He just needed to figure out where to start.
His eye caught on the slightly open cabinet drawer under the sink. It’ll be a bit precarious, but doable. Mellow is nifty, he can figure it out. Grabbing the handle, he pulled the door open a bit more, enough for him to fit his hands into the top ledge. Hoisting himself up, he was able to get one of his feet up on the cabinet, the rest of his body rolling up after it just as the cabinet door shut again, narrowly missing his hands as he yanked them out of the way.
Mellow took a moment to catch his breath. Usually he’d be able to do this kinda exercise easily, but the full day of running around with no food or water and many many fights took a bit of a toll on him, he thinks. Maybe he should’ve brought that up when Ticketo made fun of him for eating his marshmallow so fast. Or when everyone passed out in front of the fireplace without making dinner first. But whatever. He’s a big boy, he can last a day or two without food. He doesn’t know how to use the oven anyway.
Gathering himself, he carefully stood up on the counter, his socks slipping a bit on the smooth surface. The fridge, luckily, was pushed up right against the side of the cabinet, though it was still a bit too tall for Mellow to reach the top of it where the glasses reside. He squints his big eyes, hand coming over his head to block the sunlight that wasn’t there as it was currently nighttime. It looks like if he reeaallyy reaches, he’ll be able to grab the glass perched a little too close to the side.
He slides over to the fridge and gets up on his tippy toes, extending his hands as far up as they can go. He grazes the side of the glass, but isn’t even close to picking it up, even after climbing all the way up here. Mellow huffed. Curse his small useless bean body. He’s gonna be super tall when he grows up, he decides. And have arms.
He stretches his body a bit more, now only balancing on one shaking foot. A bead of sweat rolls down his face as he nudges the side of the glass with his pointer finger. Just a bit more… almost…
His foot slips out from under him.
Crap sticks.
In his panic to catch himself, Mellow grabs onto the fridge wall, shaking the heavy machine as his sweaty hands scrabble for purchase on the smooth surface. Above him the sound of glass rolling on marble splits the silent night air, rolling, rolling, rolling…
…Right off the fridge.
Mellow’s heart drops to his stomach. All common sense consumed by panic, his hands slip from the grip he had on the fridge, reaching out for the glass. He feels the cool surface graze his fingers, before slipping through and crashing on the floor, Mellow’s body soon following with a heavy thump.
Mellow doesn’t breathe.
The glass has been completely splintered. The hundreds of shards glow blue in the moonlight filtering in through the window.
There's a dull ache in his side from where he hit the ground. He doesn’t notice it.
He crawls toward the still glass corpse. Shaking, sweating hands reach into the mess, wanting to help, wanting to fix.
But there's nothing to fix. The glass is broken. He can see his reflection in the shards. His pupils are pinpricks.
His chest hurts. He needs to breathe. He can’t. He can feel the small shards poke into his hands, the burning, sluggish spill of blood warm as he sweeps them into his wet palm.
It has only been a day. It has only been a day. It has only been a day and he ruined it. Ticketo and Catthew spent all afternoon cleaning these glasses. Miss Mirianne said there weren't enough glasses for everyone. There aren't enough glasses and he was selfish and broke one and now he ruined everything.
He feels sick. His hand tightens around the pile of glass he picked up.
He knew it was too good to be true. Mellow is not a good kid. He’s loud, and rowdy, and annoying, and he breaks. He breaks and breaks and breaks.
The world grows blurry in front of him, everything fading into fuzzy blue blobs. Distantly, he hears the dripping of something on the floor.
Everyone gets mad eventually. When he breaks Henry's stuff he gets angry and that's scary but…
In the back of his mind, all he sees is blue eyes and white hands. No one is patient forever.
A sharp intake of breath fills his lungs with air that feels too sharp, too cold, like a broken glass.
What is he still sitting here for? He can’t do it again, he just can’t. He can’t imagine Miss. Mirianne or Ticketo or Miss. Malia getting that look in their eyes. Getting tense and letting out a suffering sigh. Lifting their hand and-
No. He needs to go. He needs to- he needs to…
Hide.
His body feels distant as he shakily rises to his feet, clutching his wet hand to his chest. He slowly turns back to the cabinet, eyes locking on the still slightly ajar door.
Hide.
His feet seem to move without his input, sluggishly shuffling over to the cabinet mindlessly. His free hand reaches out, slowly opening the door with a soft creak. It’s dark inside.
Hide.
He pushes aside the various cleaning products and cobwebs, shoving himself in the small box. It feels familiar. Henry didn’t find him the last time he hid in the cabinet. Maybe it’s stupid, but he hopes it works a second time. It usually doesn’t, but he can hope. The door closes silently behind him. He shoves the hand not still holding the glass (stupid stupid stupid) over his mouth and waits.
Guardian angel, If you’re still there, please protect me. I’ll be good, I promise.