Y'know, I think one of the things that people get wrong with conditioned whumpees is their rules. Specifically, when a whumpee was in long term captivity/training and they later get released or escape.
Most people write them as latching onto a caretaker or new whumper, and begging for new rules so they know they're doing something right. A new set of laws to live by, a new framework to behave to.
And that's... not really how conditioning works.
Conditioning means automatic reactions. Your body doing something that was trained into you without consulting your brain first.
There is no decision making. There is no choice. The trigger hits, and you are immediately performing the correct action regardless of anything else.
You're told to kneel? Your knees have already hit the ground. You're supposed to be standing in one part of the house when you hear the front door open? You've launched into movement before you even realize what you heard.
These rules are woven into the fabric of your body. They are insurmountable. The conditioning overrides emotion, internal conflict, hesitation, beliefs, wants... everything.
Your whumpee may very well hate what is being done to them, and after the moment has passed they'll be cursing themself and their whumper. They're still a person on the inside. That person is still very much alive. Most of the time, they will have some level of awareness that what's being done to them is wrong. They'll be angry. They'll be hurt. They will hate that there is nothing they can do about it.
But the next time that trigger occurs, the response still hits them exactly the same.
So now take your whumpee out of that situation. They ran away, were rescued, were sold. They got out. Now they're with new people, a new caretaker, a new whumper. Or they're on their own and trying to make their own way in the world.
But those conditioned responses are still there.
There's no turning them off. You don't just replace them with new rules. They have been built into the very framework of who you are.
The next time someone says the word "kneel", your knees are on the ground again. No matter where you are, or who you're with. The response happens before you can stop it. If they don't know why, everyone looks at you like you're insane.
Deconditioning is an agonizing process that takes more effort than I can even begin to describe to someone who's never experienced it.
Every time they hit that trigger, that response will still be there. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over.
Breaking those rules down takes YEARS. It is a constant effort that the whumpee has to choose to undergo every single time. Progress is measured milimeter by milimeter. You're told to kneel, and you kneel. You're told to kneel, and your mind catches up with the fact that you already did it— but a little sooner than it did before. Then a split second sooner. Then as you're doing it. Then you feel the impulse just before your knees hit the ground. Then you have a split-second of resistance before you go down. On and on and on and on, inching toward progress despite the fact that you're fighting with all your might.
Worse? Progress is anything but linear.
You don't just start obeying new rules. You don't latch on to your caretaker's new way of doing things and drop everything that you were conditioned to do before. These rules don't just get replaced.
Conditioning is not a belief system. It's a flinch response. Programmed deeper than the instincts you were born with.
You can be ordered not to obey the old command, and moments later when the trigger comes, you will anyway. Because in conditioning, the action comes before the choice.
These rules, these laws of your existence, come above everything else. If your new whumper wants to replace them, they are going to have to beat the new rules into you so often and so severely that the pain becomes stronger than the old conditioning. At that point, the newly desired response will very, very slowly start to take over.
You're not swapping out new rules. You're layering new, worse conditioning on top of the old. Your brain will spend time stuck in that split-second between both responses before one finally grows stronger than the other. Even then, the change will not happen quickly.
That is what your conditioned whumpee is up against. That is what makes it such a horrible—HORRIBLE— and powerful tool.
Here are some links of the best artists/stories here on tumblr:
If you are Interested in vampire x human whump, read:
Vampire x Vampire Hunter by @jumpywhumpywriter
SHATTERED by @oddsconvert
Nightfall by @deluxewhump
Dylan and Algernon by @dimlylitcomfortcorner
Kane & Jim by @whumpsday
Of Vampires and Men by @whumpy-writings
Lukas and Elliot by me :)
If you are interested in the general caretaker x whumpee trope, read:
Hero Sidekick x Villain by @jumpywhumpywriter
Max and Carlo by @deluxewhump
Tomas and Rowe by @whumpzone
If you are interested in giant/tiny stories, read:
Trevor and Bennett by @ilovegt
Minescule by @cathianemelian
The fairy and the giant by @sofeb
These are some of my favorite stories that feed the ache in my soul.
Enjoy!
CW: institutionalized slavery, pet whump, dehumanization, ‘it’ as a pronoun for whumpee, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee, implied dubcon, people who suck, whumpee is basically a sex slave for rent so if you’ve made it this far you know what you’re in for
————
Gage seems taken aback for a moment.
“Why?”
“I just… want to buy him”. Alex isn’t sure how to best explain it without sounding ridiculous. It doesn’t sound ridiculous, does it? “I just- I just wanted to. Will you sell him to me?”
“I didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.” Gage says, his tone still genuinely surprised.
“It’s not about that!” Alex exclaims, already exasperated.
“Then what is it about?”
“I- look, can you sell him to me or not? I’ll pay whatever the WRU would.” He asks after a pause, clearly unwilling to explain further. I don’t think he’d get it. Gage clearly still doesn’t understand what this is all about.
“Ok, yeah, fine.” Part of Alex still isn’t thrilled at the thought of dropping so much money on this, but he knows this is more important than that.
“What’s happening?” Eric asks as he enters from the other room, followed by Jackson.
Fuck. They’ll understand if I explain it.
————
37 feels sick to its stomach. Part of it is due to the lack of food- it hasn’t been fed in a while, how long exactly it isn’t sure. The other part is due to the scene unfolding a few feet away, around the corner in the other room.
Good pets dont eavesdrop.
37 isn’t a very good pet, and it can no longer stop itself from thinking as it hears the man who had bombarded it with strange questions just an hour before offer to buy it from its new owner. The thought of changing hands again so soon is terrifying; he would be its fourth owner. Four is too many. Maybe if an owner doesn’t even use the pet it doesn’t count? 37 doesn’t know enough to be sure. Regardless, the thought of being sold before even really interacting with its master is disheartening in a new kind of way. Even damaged goods can get acknowledged; does it at least deserve that?
No.
The answer should be obvious. 37 doesn’t deserve anything. It reminds itself of this often. The two men talk for several minutes discussing prices. Its potential new owner- Alex- sounds very adamant. It doesn’t know what to make of that. He had offered to pay the same as the WRU, so there’s no way he just plans on sending it in… which means he must have some other reason. Something 37 doesn’t know.
Paying attention is becoming harder now as the panic slowly spreads throughout it. This is too much. It’s all too much. 37 diverts all of its effort to breathing, keeping its rhythm the way it’s supposed to. In, out. Don’t listen. Whatever happens, happens. Good pets don’t think.
37 hears the conversation becoming heated. The other two men had already joined in by now.
“…and I don’t want him to end up somewhere worse! Maybe I’m not the fucking weird one for wanting to help someone!” Alex’s voice is getting louder. The pet barely even registers what he’s actually talking about. He sounds frustrated and angry. That’s not good.
It wants to cry. It’s wanted that more in the past 48 hours than it has in a long time, but now especially. 37 doesn’t know how to behave properly anymore. Good pets Love their owners, and 37 hasn’t had to love anyone in a long time. Even if it was properly trained and prepared again, 37 is just bad. It knows that no matter who it ends who with, no matter what their intentions are it won’t be long before they realize what’s wrong with it and then it’ll all be over. That’s probably what happened last time.
“Hey,” Alex’s voice reminds it of where it is.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck
It’s crying. It didn’t even realize. It does its best to regain composure, but he definitely notices.
“Uh- I’ve gotta make a couple phone calls and get this all sorted out, but you’re gonna come with me. Is- is that okay?” He asks. He obviously saw the tears. For a brief moment 37 wishes it could die on the spot; but that would probably be incredibly inconvenient for its new owner anyways. It nods after a moment (too long).
“Of course, sir.” It manages to keep its voice level. Its first interaction with its second new master of the day and it’s already ruined it. Judging by his reaction, he likely has some other plans for 37 in mind. If he was buying it for himself this behavior wouldn’t be tolerated.
“Okay.” He responds, a bit awkwardly before returning to the other room to do whatever it is he needs to. Meanwhile, the world collapses in on itself with 37 in the middle. The room is swaying back and forth like it sometimes does when things go very bad. This is going to be the end- he’s going to get rid of it somehow. 37 is too stupid to figure out exactly how.
Bad pet. Stupid. Ugly. Useless.
It doesn’t want to try. It just wants to be far away. It turns its eyes to the window and to the beautiful sky that would stretch on forever and ever if it wasn’t abruptly cut off by the tops of buildings. 37 wishes it could be beautiful too.
this idea i’ve had stuck in my head in regard to BBU/institutionalized pet whump is that if they have a legal system where people who have been convicted of crimes are funneled into the pet programs and that if all traces of their old life are erased, i assume their owners would be receiving them without any awareness of who they even were, let alone what crimes they might have committed. and rightfully this element is typically a criticism of the society and the fact that people who have committed petty crimes are sent to be tortured. but it could still facilitate a scenario in which people who have committed actually violent and malicious crimes end up with their memory erased and placed into a home with someone who is totally unaware of their history. imagine the specific dawning horror of realizing that the person they took into their home as a pet has killed before. and what an odd fucking dynamic that would be, especially if there are other people or other pets living in the house with them.
There’s nothing quite like the terror of waking up and being unable to remember a single thing about yourself, every strained attempt to remember only resulting in you smacking into the steel vault door that’s suddenly right where your cherished childhood memories used to be. Or, where they probably were, anyway. I wouldn’t have known, because I couldn’t fucking remember. All I could feel was this cold pit in my stomach, the sensation that I’d collapsed in on myself like a black hole, that I wasn’t anyone anymore.
Yep, there’s really nothing quite like it. Which is why there’s also the godforsaken sequel: being molded into someone—something—you’re absolutely certain you don’t want to be.
“Your pain is what makes you useful,” the trainer intoned. “Say it.”
“Fuck you—” The cattle prod jabbed into my stomach. My arms yanked at the manacles suspending me, instinct driving me to protect my torso. That was the only thing driving me, I thought numbly, my jaw clenched against the pain. Instinct. I didn’t have much else.
When it stopped, I sagged in my chains with my arms pulling at their sockets, and a bead of sweat ran down my nose and plopped to the tile floor, right in front of the trainer’s boots. The tip of her cattle prod, still warm, pushed up under my chin. I flinched upright. She let out a dry chuckle. “I could do this all day, pet. But I doubt you can.”
“Underestimate me again,” I muttered, “I dare y—”
A short, sharp zap to the sternum shut me up, at least for a second. “Your pain,” she repeated, seizing my chin in her hand, “is what makes you useful. Say it three times, and this session ends, alright? That’s a pretty clear win condition. You’d have to be stupid not to accept it.”
I loosened my jaw, made like I was going slack with defeat. “M … my …”
Her fingers slipped on my sweaty skin as her grip tightened. “Yeah?” she prompted.
I jerked my head to the side, and my teeth closed around flesh and bone. I tasted blood before she screeched, and before she had the presence of mind to electrocute me again. The prod drove deep into my stomach, but I clenched my jaw down harder against the pain, against the screaming in my ear. You’re gonna hurt with me, motherfucker.
Finally I couldn’t stand the electricity anymore. I released her mangled fingers, and her blood dripped down my chin. She reared back and didn’t waste a second in driving the cattle prod into my stomach, zapping me so long it began to burn. “You son of a bitch!” Her boot drove into my leg, and as it buckled, the prod dragged up my chest.
I was seeing stars by the time it ended, colors swirling in my vision like they were trying to brighten up the plain tile of my cell. The trainer hissed in pain, flexing her injured hand. I couldn’t see how good I’d gotten her, but I could still taste her blood, so I had to assume it was pretty goddamn good. I spit some of it out by her boots.
She just glared at me. “You don’t eat until you say your affirmations, you goddamn brat. Enjoy starving.” She hooked her cattle prod into her belt and left, slamming the door behind her.
I wiped my face on my shoulder and grinned after her. Facility: zero. Me: one.
Whumper and Whumpee were romantic partners, or best friends, until one day they had a falling out and broke up. Whumper, betrayed and seeking revenge, pays for Whumpee to be turned into a pet and their memory erased. When Whumpee ends up in the home of their new owner, they have no idea why Whumper is so vindictive yet affectionate with them at the same time.
The long-awaited follow-up to Nailgun (wherein vandals found Aiden alone and when he tried to fight back, they nailed him to a wall, mostly by his sweatshirt. Mostly). Now, Leo comes to the rescue. We can only imagine how Harrison would handle it.
cw: nail in hand, trauma response/conditioning (barely), loss of consciousness, victim self-blaming, internalized abelism, comfort and fluff, rainbows and unicorns.
Previous — Masterlist — Next
Leo kills the radio as soon as he pulls into the driveway and sees the busted front door.
The damage barely registers as he checks the ground floor. There’s only one thing he cares about right now. When he doesn’t see anyone on the crew his chest tightens, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
He takes the stairs two at a time.
They’re all crowded into the back bedroom. Leo pauses in the hallway, unsure what he’s hoping to hear. Maybe some signal that it’s not half as bad as any of the worst case scenarios he’s imagining.
“If a few of us hold him still, can you cut him down?” someone asks.
“No, no way,” Jesse says immediately. “He’s freaked out enough as it is.”
Leo pushes into the room.
It is decidedly worse than he imagined, seeing Aiden down on his knees and nailed to the wall. Mercy doesn’t seem like it was part of the equation here but for whatever reason, the assailants mostly aimed for his sweatshirt. Except for his left hand. The sight of it makes Leo’s stomach drop. Always that poor left hand.
“Leo’s here,” Riley says unhelpfully.
Aiden doesn’t react. His head is turned the other way but his ragged breathing, fast and shallow, is audible across the room.
Leo starts toward him but Jesse catches his arm. “He won’t let anyone touch him. Every time we get close, he freaks out.”
“I think he’s in shock,” Tony supplies. “My cousin dropped a nail gun on his foot once and just started taking off his clothes.”
“Alright,” Jesse clips.
The room falls silent as Leo makes his way to Aiden’s side and falls to his knees. “Aiden, hey, it’s Leo.”
It’s probably the same naive part of him that couldn’t even stoop to imagine this level of cruelty that also hopes he’ll be able to reach Aiden. It’s been months since Leo felt in over his head but the far away look in Aiden’s eyes makes it feel like their first night all over again and he has no idea where to start.
“Are you okay?” Stupid question, of course he’s not. Everyone can see he’s not. “What happened?”
“M’sorry…m’sorry…s-s-sir.”
Shit. Of all the times for that word to rear its ugly head. He isn’t crying which is an even bigger red flag.
Leo clears his throat, acutely aware of their audience. They’re all good guys but Jesse’s the only one he trusts with Aiden’s history and, even then, it’s just need-to-know.
“No need to apologize. It’s not your fault. Can we help you get down from there?”
“Mmm’I didn’t— I don’t— Please, mmm’sorry— Please, sir…” It doesn’t seem like he even knows what he’s begging for at this point. Probably to not make it hurt any worse.
“Aiden, listen—” He reaches to put a hand on Aiden’s shoulder and Aiden cries out, pulling uselessly against the nails to avoid the touch. Leo raises both hands where he can see them. “Easy, easy, I won’t touch you.”
He twitches a few more times, like it takes his body a minute to catch up with his brain. When he finally does stop, his eyes are even more vacant. “Mmm’sorry, m’sorry, s-sir…mmm’please, please…”
Someone clears their throat.
Leo looks at Jesse. This is starting to sound like way more than a roughed up kid afraid of losing his job. Especially since they all think Aiden is Leo’s nephew. Or did he say cousin? Either way, at best they’ll think his family believes in some serious corporal punishment. At worst, they’ll recognize the truth.
“Alright, let’s everyone start cleaning up this mess.” Jesse herds the crew out of the room, assigning jobs. Leo stops listening.
Aiden stares ahead blankly, his labored breathing the only sign that he has any remaining awareness.
Leo’s palms start to sweat and he wipes them on his jeans. Aiden hasn’t been this freaked out since he woke up in the hospital. Or maybe that night with the nosebleed but even then, they were at home, Aiden wasn’t in pain. They had time. If there’s one thing Leo has needed with Aiden from the beginning, it’s time. He sends a quick text to his sister but doubts he’ll get a response inside the hour.
“Leo?” Jesse tilts his head, eyebrows raised like he had to say his name more than once. “What do you want to do?”
“We have to get him down.”
“Right,” Jesse says slowly. “How?”
“Go get some scissors and the first aid kit.”
“We already did.” Jesse gestures to Leo’s other side.
“Oh. Okay, good.” He swallows. “Bolt cutters?”
“I’ll be right back.”
Starting anywhere is better than sitting here doing nothing. He doesn’t need to overthink this to death.
Leo moves as close as he can, keeping his hands visible. “Aiden, can you look at me?”
He raises his eyes but his gaze never lifts higher than Leo’s cheekbones.
“Good. Nod if you can hear me.”
He does, brow furrowing like he thinks it’s a test.
“Good. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No,” he says as gently as he can. Aiden still flinches. God, he’s so far gone. “Say my name.”
“Mmm…” He wets his lips nervously, searching Leo’s face. “...sir?”
“You can do it, say my name.”
His eyes fill and he shakes his head.
Leo’s heart aches. “I’m so sorry.”
Aiden squeezes his eyes shut, a few tears escaping.
He holds Aiden’s cheek and brings their foreheads together. “Come back to me, baby,” he whispers.
“L-Leo,” he sobs. “Leo, it hurts.”
Leo releases the breath he was holding. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna get you down, I’m gonna take care of you.”
Aiden sniffles, leaning into his hand.
“Jesse’s going to help us, okay?” He brushes the tears off Aiden’s cheek with his thumb. “We’ll be as fast as we can.”
Those big brown eyes finally meet his. “I-I—”
Jesse walks into the room, making Aiden tense. “Okay, all set.” He holds up the bolt cutters for Leo to see.
“Easy, it’s just Jesse.” He moves his hand to the back of Aiden’s neck, rubbing his thumb in circles there to keep him calm.
“Hey, kiddo.” Jesse moves into his eyeline and Aiden grants him the briefest flash of eye contact before looking back to Leo. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We’ll cut your clothes free first so that when we do your hand, you’re done. Sound good?”
Aiden nods, worry lining his face.
Jesse digs the scissors out of the first aid kit. It’s a small blessing that they’re actually the kind made for cutting someone’s clothes away. “Ready when you are.”
“I’m gonna help you stay still.” Leo puts his hand between his shoulder blades. “If you need a break, you just tell us to stop, yeah?”
“O-okay.”
“Jesse’s gonna start with your right arm.”
“Mhm.”
“You ready?”
“Mmm.”
Leo waits for Aiden to meet his eyes again before nodding at Jesse to start.
“I’m going to hold your sleeve here—” Aiden stops breathing when Jesse slips the scissors into his sweatshirt. He cuts in a straight line all the way to the middle of his shoulder.
Aiden keeps his arm pressed against the wall even once Jesse moves back.
“You can move your arm now,” Leo says gently.
Aiden blinks at him, flexing just his fingers first before he slowly bends his arm at the elbow like he doesn’t believe it’s possible. Finally, he lets his arm fall to his side, clutching his jeans. There are a handful of nicks on either side of his arm but thankfully none of them look deep.
Leo collects Aiden’s trembling fingers in his. “Breathe, hon. You’re doing good.”
He releases a shaky exhale, squeezing Leo’s hand tightly.
“Can I do your right side now?”
“Uhm—” He clears his throat. “Yeah.”
When Jesse reaches the top, Leo stops him before he pulls the scissors out. “Cut the rest of this shoulder free and the front.” Jesse does as instructed, cutting him half of an awful semblance of a poncho. Leo keeps his hand in the center of Aiden’s back to hold the fabric against his skin. In retrospect, it seems like a stupid thing to be protective of at this moment.
Still, he thinks Aiden looks a tiny bit relieved not having his back bared.
Jesse starts on his left side. He’s almost finished when Aiden inhales sharply, fresh tears springing to his eyes.
“Aiden?” Leo can’t keep the panic from his voice.
“Mm’okay,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “K-keep…going.”
Jesse continues slowly. He lifts the edge of the cut fabric to reveal a trail of blood down Aiden’s side from a spot where a nail pierced through the underside of his arm. “You okay, kiddo?”
He nods bravely. There are bruises too.
Leo’s blood boils. He’ll press every single fucking charge he can against these motherfuckers, if he doesn’t find them and kill them himself first.
“Anywhere else that bad?” Jesse asks, snapping Leo out of his thoughts.
“I-I don’t…mmm’think so,” Aiden says softly.
“Leo, you want to hold his wrist? Just in case?”
“Is that okay?”
Aiden nods.
“Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” Leo reminds him.
“Mhm.”
He covers Aiden’s wrist with his hand, holding it fast against the wall. It doesn’t escape him that Aiden stops breathing altogether.
Jesse pauses when he reaches Leo’s hand.
“You’re going to have to hold him better. Once I’m through, he won’t be able to keep his arm steady at this height.”
He’s right. Leo takes a breath and releases Aiden’s hand. “I’m just—”
“S’okay,” Aiden says, nodding.
Leo’s throat feels thick. “Good boy,” he says without thinking.
Aiden looks down shyly.
“Ready?” Jesse prompts.
Leo grips Aiden by the elbow and moves his other hand to the end of the cut fabric, locking his arm against the wall.
“Okay, there.” Jesse drops the scissors like they’re inflammatory. “Done.”
Aiden’s starting to tremble in his grip, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
“Get the bolt cutters,” he tells Jesse urgently. “Aiden, look at me.” It takes a second too long for his eyes to focus on Leo’s. “Trust me?”
“Yes.”
Leo feels a rush of adrenaline and maybe something else. “Close your eyes.”
Aiden squeezes his eyes shut and leans into Leo’s side as much as he can with his arm pinned to the wall. He braces his free hand beside his chest, fingertips curling like he wants to dig into the drywall.
Leo nods at Jesse.
The bolt cutters seem like they’re made to take off his very fingers. It looks horrific, using such a monstrous tool right next to a vulnerable, exposed wound. Leo wants to look away himself.
Jesse is careful and precise. He lines up as close to Aiden’s hand as he can get without touching it and cuts. Leo doesn’t hesitate either, pulling Aiden’s hand off the nail. It all happens in the span of a few seconds.
Aiden chokes halfway through the whimper he started when the bolt cutters bit the nail. His expression twists in pain, mouth open in silent, surprised agony like he got the wind knocked out of him. Leo feels guilty for choosing speed over warning. Aiden grabs the wrist of his injured hand protectively and turns his face into Leo’s shoulder.
“I got you, I got you,” Leo wraps an arm around him. “You’re gonna be okay.”
He coughs a sob into Leo’s sweatshirt, turning his face out of the fabric to gasp a shaky inhale.
Jesse ducks out of the room, mumbling about getting him water.
“You did good, sweetheart. You did good.”
He lifts his head to look up at Leo, still trying to catch his breath. “I-I’m s-sorry…mm’about the-the house.”
Leo crushes him in a hug, mindful of his hand, and rests his cheek against Aiden’s temple. “I don’t give a shit about the damn house.”
Aiden huffs in his arms.
God, he doesn’t know what he would have done if Aiden wasn’t okay.
Jesse comes back with Aiden’s water bottle and phone. Leo avoids the look he’s trying to share. Aiden takes a few sips of water, letting Leo help him when even his uninjured hand is too shaky.
“You think you can hold out on the first aid until we get home?” Leo suggests. “I don’t think any of these are bleeding anymore.”
He nods, looking relieved.
Aiden and Jesse each take a side to lift him to his feet. He looks ridiculous, and a little pathetic, though Leo would never say either outloud. The butchered hoodie hangs off him like a poncho, his bruised ribs visible on either side, looking totally out of place over his dry-wall dusted jeans and workboots.
“Let me give you my jacket,” Jesse offers, picking it up from where he must have tossed it earlier. He drapes it carefully around Aiden’s shoulders before clearing his throat. “Listen, I’m—”
“Later,” Leo clips.
Aiden searches his face.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
He nods, brow still creased.
“Hope it feels better quick, kiddo,” Jesse says, patting him on the shoulder.
“It-it doesn’t…mmm’hurt that-that bad.” Leo would bet the winning powerball numbers that’s a load of bullshit. Aiden just has an impossible pain tolerance and a knee-jerk need to placate people. He lifts his hand to look for himself…and slumps toward the floor.
Leo barely manages to catch him with Jesse getting in the way trying to do the same. “I got him, I got him,” he snaps.
Jesse holds up his hands. “Just trying to help, Leo.”
“Yeah, now.” He carefully lays Aiden down, making sure Jesse’s jacket is under him.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He pulls his hoodie off and folds it up to put under Aiden’s head. He sits beside him and puts a hand to his cheek. “Hon, can you hear me?”
“Is he alright?” Jesse clicks his tongue when Leo doesn’t answer right away. “I’ve been helping this whole time.”
Aiden’s out cold. “He’ll be fine, it was just too much,” he says to stop Jesse from hovering. “Hand me the first aid kit.” He might as well save Aiden more stress later.
Jesse drops the bag at his side and paces away. And back. Forward and back.
Leo grinds his teeth. “None of this would have happened if you had just waited for me to come back before leaving.”
“I set the alarm!” Jesse defends. “You were supposed to be back two hours ago, what about where the fuck you were?”
“The Woburn store was out, I had to drive all the way to Lowell.”
Leo sprays antiseptic onto some gauze and starts dabbing the wound on Aiden’s hand, front and back. The burn is only just-healed, crossed over the deep wound from the beginning. Now this. God, what if he needs a tetanus shot?
“Setting the alarm is not the same thing as being here,” he grits. “I trusted you.”
Jesse’s mouth falls open. Leo looks away to open a new piece of gauze. “That’s not fair. You never said I couldn’t leave him alone at all. You know if you had, I would have stayed.”
Leo focuses on bandaging his hand, taping the edges neatly. He wants to work quickly and finish all of it before Aiden wakes up. He sighs. “Can you hold his wrist? I don’t want to bump his hand.”
Jesse folds into a seat and takes Aiden gently by the wrist so Leo can clean the puncture under his arm. His eyes trace the scar on his forearm. “This was that night?”
Leo keeps his focus on what he’s doing. “Yeah.” All of Aiden’s scars are hard to look at but especially those. They happened when Leo was supposed to be keeping him safe. He takes a breath. “I’m saying it now.”
“Leo—”
“You’re right about today,” he agrees. “You didn’t know before so I’m saying it now.”
He tapes the edges of another square of gauze to make a bandage. Once it’s on the wound, he takes Aiden’s wrist back and carefully crosses his arm over his chest so his hand rests by his shoulder. At least the poor kid almost looks peaceful.
He pauses to drag a hand over his face. “This is what it’s like though. Most of the time, it’s fine. It’s almost normal. But when it goes bad, it goes really, really bad.”
Jesse glances down at Aiden.
“For example, who turned off the alarm?”
“It—I—”
“Exactly. What are the odds any given day that a site is vandalized? What are the odds those assholes know how to cut the alarm before they even get in? And what are the chances those same fuckers have a streak of sadism?” He dabs antiseptic on all of the other nicks he can see. “So, yeah, five minutes, fifteen minutes, it’s too long.”
Jesse swallows. “Leo, I’m—”
“I know. You won’t let it happen again. Neither will I.” He looks down at Aiden. “And as soon as he’s feeling a little better, I’m gonna kill him for not having his phone on him. He better bet his ass he’s getting a fucking Apple watch sautered onto his wrist.”
Jesse huffs a laugh. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that already.”
“No kidding.” Satisfied with this first aid sprint, Leo zips up the case. Jesse reaches over to take the trash from him.
“You’re doing a great job, you know.”
Leo waves him off.
“No, really. I don’t think you hear it enough. Probably because you won’t listen.” Leo rolls his eyes. “He’s a completely different person than the first day I met him. Speaking of…”
Aiden scrunches up his face and lets out a soft whimper. “No,” he whispers under his breath. He’s still as stone, like he’s afraid to move.
Or thinks he can’t.
Leo pulls him up by the tops of his arms and his eyes fly open. “Hey, hey, look at me.” He holds his cheek. “That’s it. You’re here with me. I’ve got you.”
He shakes his head like he’s dispelling whatever had him confused.
Leo waits until his eyes are clear. “You took a little nap so I did some first aid,” he gently lifts his arm by the wrist to show him that his hand is bandaged.
“Ahh, okay.” He looks relieved and pulls in a deliberate, deep breath.
Leo doesn’t pry. “What do you say we get you home?”
Aiden nods.
“Take two,” Jesse jokes.
Aiden awards him a small smile. He lets them balance most of his weight going down the stairs but at the bottom, he steps away. Leo almost reaches out to help him but Jesse catches his sleeve.
“Ayy, look who’s back.” Tony swoops in to fist bump Aiden and sparks a rush of attention.
As they slowly make their way to the front door, every single person on the crew comes up to check that he’s okay. Telling him to get some rest and heal up quick so he can come back soon. A few more reach out for a fist bump or to lightly pat him on the shoulder. Aiden smiles shyly and even joins in the banter with a one-word quip Leo doesn't quite hear but that earns Aiden another round of fist bumps.
Far from the skinny, shivering kid who wouldn’t make eye contact and could barely stand on his own two feet when Leo pulled him out of the snowbank. Leo’s heart swells.
Once they get Aiden situated, Jesse walks Leo to the driver’s side. “Take as much time as you need, I can hold things down for a few days. And, sorry again. I didn’t—”
“It’s all good. Thanks for helping with everything. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Aiden returns Jesse’s wave as Leo turns around.
Leo swings out of the driveway onto the tree-lined lane. It’s a nice neighborhood which is why he and Jesse jumped at the chance to get the house in a foreclosure auction. Maybe next time Aiden doesn’t work those jobs.
The light at the end of the street is green, he takes a left.
“A movie on the couch sounds really good.” He changes lanes for some moron in a Beamer trying to get a ticket. “Aiden? What do you think?”
He doesn’t answer.
Because he’s crying. Good hand covering his face while the bandaged one trembles in the air.
“Hon,” Leo reaches over and puts his hand on the back of his neck.
That only opens the floodgates and Aiden starts sobbing. “I—I—don’t—”
“I’m gonna stop, hang on.” Leo rubs his neck, chest tightening every time he has a chance to glance over.
He takes the first turn he can, pulling into a Wendy’s and swinging into the closest parking spot. Leo’s got his seatbelt off before he even kills the engine. He reaches over and unbuckles Aiden’s, freezing when he sees the look on his face.
“H-h-how do…they-they…mmm’always…know?” he sobs.
Leo’s heart splinters. “Oh, Aiden.” He pulls the sobbing, shaking boy into his arms.
“I-I—tried to-to…mmm’fight…b-back.”
Oh, God. Leo clears his throat. “Aiden, listen to me. Nothing about you or what you did invited what happened.”
He sits up to search Leo’s face. His is a mess of snot and tears. “But-but—”
“I mean it.” Leo reaches around him to pull a handkerchief out of the glove box, gently cleans his face. “We don’t know how this would have played out with someone else.”
Aiden sniffles, looking down at his hand.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow to ask you any questions but how many people broke in?”
“Mmm’three…three guys.”
He refuses to let himself picture it. “I don’t know if I could best three guys.”
Those dark eyes flick up to his face and then back down. “That-that…uhmmm, first…night.”
Leo grimaces internally. “Alright. I mean, yeah…but they didn’t have anything to fight with.”
Aiden frowns.
“Just because someone else might have been stronger, doesn’t mean they would have come away scott free.”
Aiden flinches, looking down to hide his face so Leo can’t catch his gaze. He makes a mental note to ask about it later, when the kid wasn’t still nailed to a wall within the last hour.
“For all we know, a longer fight could have made things worse.”
No dice. At least he’s not crying anymore.
Leo wishes he knew exactly what to say, exactly what the kid needed to hear. Since words are failing him, he just pulls Aiden back into his arms. Aiden melts into the hug, sniffling. Leo holds him tight, rubbing slow circles on his back. They sit in the parking lot until Aiden’s breathing is long and steady, the sun starting to set.
“Can-can…we…?”
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
Leo helps him buckle into the middle seat so he can lean into Leo’s side for the rest of the drive.
They’re almost home when Leo realizes that Aiden has been gearing up to say something for the last ten minutes. His lips moving while he parses the words, a crease between his brows. Leo catches his gaze and Aiden bites his lips together.
He squeezes his knee. “What is it, hon?”
Aiden keeps his eyes trained out the windshield, like he’s afraid to look at Leo. “Mmm’can, can I…can I…really go…mmm’back?”
“What do you mean? Back to work, like once you're better?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course you can.” Leo pulls into the driveway, following as it curves around the first condo in the row and leads into the tiny parking lot at the back. He parks in his usual spot, glad he can turn to see Aiden fully now. “That is, if you want to.”
Aiden finally looks at him. “I…w-want to.”
“Good.” Leo pats his knee. “Because you kind of don’t have a choice.”
Aiden raises his eyebrows.
“In case you didn’t notice with that goodbye, you’re part of the crew. They’d come find you if you didn’t come back.”
Aiden shakes his head but as he turns to open the passenger side door, he’s smiling.
