Hidden Ink #11: Light Fingers
Masterlist
Tropes and CWs: Hunter caretaker, naughty kitten whumpee, language barrier, some trust issues, some swearing.
The first few seconds of Mika’s wakefulness were spent in clawing panic. His mind raced hard enough to shake off any cobwebs, his hand raking desperately through furs and blankets that were still warm with body heat. Once he’d confirmed to himself that Ari was no longer in bed, he rubbed the glue off his eyes and stared wildly around the cabin. A sliver of moonlight crept in through the window, casting a ghostly pallor.
“Ari?” The name caught on the second syllable; the figure hovering by the table did not appear to have noticed the sound. Mika was about to call again when instinct stopped him. A hunter’s instinct, one which promised reward if he only stayed still and silent. He laid his head against the pillow again, watching through half-closed eyelids.
Ari did not move to leave.
He looked set to leave, though. There was something furtive in the way he rifled through the maps, a furtiveness that implied more than just a desire for Mika to stay asleep. And he had the backpack with him. It hung from his shoulder by a single strap, bumping against his side whenever he moved. Mika hadn’t seen the backpack in a while. He’d gotten a little too close to it the other day, and Ari’s glare had been as good as a warning hiss. In the end he’d reasoned that simple curiosity wasn’t worth losing Ari’s trust, and so he’d pretended not to notice when Ari had hidden it under the bed. Maybe the dragging sound of its retrieval had been what had roused him.
Ari’s shadow paused, looking over at Mika. Mika feigned sleep, as best he could with his heart hammering. Shit, if Ari was actually leaving without saying goodbye… Was it in both their best interests for him to sit up now, demand some explanation? Should he just let Ari slip away painlessly into the night? What if he tried to stop him leaving, out of either medical concern or something far more selfish? Would Ari allow it? Fight him?
Satisfied that Mika was asleep, Ari turned his attention back to the maps. He set the backpack on the chair, making that little buzzing sound with the fastener. Then he picked up one of the maps, folded it into quarters along its creases, and put it in the bag. A second map soon joined it. Mika assumed Ari had chosen the two he’d been poring over earlier.
The fastener buzzed again, the folds of the fabric now enclosing the fruits of Ari’s thievery. Mika held his breath as Ari crept towards the bed, but Ari simply squeezed into the gap underneath and pushed the bag into the far corner. The mattress shook a little as he wriggled himself out again. Then he lifted the corner of the blanket, sliding his legs under the covers as though he’d never left his bed.
“Those belonged to my father, you know,” Mika said before he could stop himself.
Ari stopped halfway to climbing into bed. His eyes, wide and glistening in the moonlight, stared fixedly at the wall in front. Mika addressed that wall, as though it were a third party in the conversation. “I’ve lived on my own for a long time. Maybe I’ve forgotten how people interact with each other. But I’m pretty sure it’s bad manners to steal from someone who’s trying to help you.”
Ari’s face had pinched inwards. His breaths began to tremble, just enough for Mika to notice. Mika let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and sat up so they were side-by-side. “Why, Ari?”
“Sorry.” The voice was quiet, as if knowing the only possible word to be insufficient.
“Come on, look at me.” Mika felt Ari flinch hard under his touch, but forced himself to pull on his shoulder. “Ari, why?”
Ari did not reply. He looked almost… defeated. Shut down. Even his eyes looked glazed, still not quite meeting Mika’s. “Sorry,” he said again.
Mika tore his gaze away, moving it back to the wall. With just a few words, something had broken between them. He couldn’t work out whether he was angrier with Ari or himself—if he even was angry, and not just filled with a void of desperate nothingness. “I guess… I guess I can’t blame you for not trusting me. The place you came from, you were obviously running away. And in a hurry, too. I know you won’t let me near your leg or that bag of yours. I know you… shared a lot today, perhaps more than you expected to. And I know you’re scared and you just want to survive. So… I’m sorry too. I don’t even know how to help you understand. Understand anything I say or do or mean to do. But…”
Ari’s limbs unlocked themselves. Slowly and carefully, as though he were in the presence of a hungry predator. He reached back under the bed, pulled the bag forward, and unfastened it. Mika felt a light pressure on his own legs as the maps landed there.
“Go. Going. Dakrii.” Ari’s teeth chattered; whether with adrenaline or the coolness of the night, Mika couldn’t say. “Maps.” He pointed at Mika. “Sorry.”
“No Dakrii. Not right now.” Mika took the maps, hesitated, then handed them back. “Keep them.”
Ari stared warily through his choppy bangs, as though expecting a trap. Mika attempted a genuine smile, realising as he did that it probably looked a little strained. “I know they aren’t yours, and I’m still not happy you took them, but I don’t want you to get lost in the forest again. If you do go. To be honest, I… I’d miss you if you left.”
Ari did not look fully convinced. Mika let out another groan-sigh, wondering if tonight was just going to be one mistake after another. “Okay, here’s a deal for you. Ari. Mika. Go to Dakrii. When leg”—he pointed at Ari’s awkwardly balanced weight—“is good again. Okay?”
“Why?”
“What do you… oh, forget it.” Mika flopped back against the pillows. He’d call it a miracle if Ari were even here come morning. “Just sleep.”
Ari’s cold skin pressed against Mika’s as he slipped under the covers. He faced away from Mika, his arms tucked in defensively against his chest. Mika rested a light hand on his back, relieved that he did not flinch away this time. “Ari, I want to help you.”
“Help,” Ari whispered.
“Yeah. You really need it, don’t you? Whatever this Dakrii thing is…”
“Help,” Ari said again, with the same care a mother might give to a lullaby, and a calm silence took hold of the cabin for the remainder of the night.
Part 12
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