The routine for his scouting was straight forward.
Go to the kitchen place and scavenge for scraps of food stuff, then another wander of the rooms to account for anything gone amiss. Check the dust coating the floor, make certain nothing was messed up by anything other than his own fleeting wandering (or the man and his hat). If he had a chance for some rest, he would hide under furniture or in the back of a cupboard, and listen to the creaking groans of the building. Sometimes a window howled with the storm and frothed with the foam of rains. Other times, he could pick up on the distant chatter of the televisions, or an adult prowling around in the wreckage of the building.
This time, he collected some food things from some distant room and hauled them back to the area where he found the Thin Man. He was so good at finding his Thin Man, and his Thin Man never paid him any mind. Sometimes, it felt like they had always traveled together – just him and the man with his hat. There was never any great adventure through the Wilderness, there was no voyage across the greatest water, he never tricked fled from the Teacher, and braved the icy warren of the Morgue Hospital.
And certainly no door at the end of the hall.
Sometimes, it was hard for Mono to remember the time when he traveled alone through the City roads, chased by a crooked shadow of a man with his face buried in the shadows of his hat. No. There was never a time he feared the Thin Man or what he might do. There was only caution and avoidance, but never icy, piercing fear that sent him scurrying into the walls and under floor boards.
He crawled out from behind the couch he was doing rest behind and fluffed out his coat. Mono hovered beside a small table leg, staring across the far expanse of the room, to a door that led into a different living area. Listening to the noises of the building chitter and window bellow, no other alarms alerted him. No snuffling and banging, nothing to indicate a search. Only the faint flutter of paper and the steady thrum of static picking at his ears – most the time he blocked it out, it was so constant and engrained into his typical doings. Not unless he was actively seeking would he typically whittle out the subtle crackle… unless the Thin Man was big speek and pacing around.
But none of that was happening right now.
On deft feet, Mono scurried from the sitting room and slipped across a corridor, into the larger room. He crept around the perimeter, his eyes never leaving the table and the legs propped on its surface. His hyper tuned gaze checked the neat suit, the most of what he could make of his Thin Man as the lithe and long figure sat in his chair – Oh! And the book he was flipping through!
Mono kept by the wall, watching as another page flipped. And then another. He couldn’t see the face from where he perched on the floor, but he could see the thin trail of smoke spiraling above the hat.
Galvanized by all the boldness of a self-important child, he dashed across the floor and stood beneath the chair at the table. He looked around, seeking some way to reach the very-very high table tops edge. ALL! The chairs were not near the table, broken, or tipped over. He thought about trying to move one of the overturned chairs closer, and trying to jump… but he didn’t know if he could manage that. It was a challenge to move a chair right side up, but on the carpet? The carpet was ratty, matted, and snagged his toes if he didn’t lift his feet for sprints.
“Hai,” he called. Hushed and careful. He stared up at the back of the Thin Man’s head, which perched above the slanted chair he reclined in. The legs groaned and threatened the weight they bore, but not once did Mono ever stop to ponder if the wood would give out, or if the Thin Man might fall on top of him. He simply knew that couldn’t happen. His Thin Man knew everything.
“Psst. Hey.” He waited, watching for indication that his raspy call was caught.
Throughout the foggy and long ago journeys he made across the city and all the terrible monsters witnessed, or all the horrors that chased. The lumbering terrors always and never failed to make him feel so small and defenseless, because he was child. And children could not do anything to stop monsters or beasts, not without a clever trick. He always hid in cracks, or dove beneath a break in the floor to escape the lunging hand eager to snatch him up. All of that made him feel tiny and insignificant, especially when some creature chucked plates or swatted at him with sticks.
However, none of that made him feel so small or invisible, as did staring up at the back of the Thin Man’s shoulders while the man in the hat remained indifferent to his presence.
“Mono,” he reminded. Important. “Am Mono. Y’hear? Hai. Am’eerre. Hm.” He shuffled around the side of the chair legs, then leapt up for a hold of the jackets edge. It dangled just beside the Thin Man’s hip, but the chair was much higher than most he scaled.
He snagged the edge of the suit and had a firm grip. With fingers knotted tight, he dug his footpads against the chair leg and eased himself up. His left foot had a good perch in the edge of the chair, where the middle brace met one leg, but when he reached high for another grasp of the jacket…. He couldn’t find a good crease to latch onto. His fingernails dragged across the fabric, he tried to hoist himself up more by his foot, but could not reach high enough to grasp at a fold or tweed in the suit.
It was over when Mono tried adjusted the grip on the bunch of fabric he had, his foot slid off the dusty chair leg and he crashed to his backside.
He stifled the grumbling in his throat. Noisy children are caught. They are stole. They die.
Rolling over, he rubbed the soreness from his back. High above his head, another page turned in the book the Thin Man looked into. Annoyed with the nothing noticing him, once more he was trying to climb up the side of the chair. This time, he inched up the chair leg the same way he would scale a rain gutter, and once more he ran into the same block. The Thin Man was sitting in the wrong way for him to have enough handholds to climb up.
“Ah.” He didn’t mean to make that yelp when he fell (probably the nineth time, but he couldn’t count without his fingers or humming).
Mono crawled under the chair and stared up at the back of the Thin Man’s head. Him was so much. Nothing frightened the Thin Man, no creature or beast. He hurt Snatchers and pummeled terrible creatures into pulp. Mono liked to watch the man and his hat, especially when the man and his hat didn’t think about Mono existing. Just something about sitting in his shadow was the best. All the other children ran away or hid. Never Mono! He looked the Thin Man in the face (sometimes, because the Thin Man stared back with that same languid indifference like Mono didn’t exist, but the Thin Man still looked). But Mono was the best, most mighty child that kept the Thin Man.
“Getchu. Am have.” And he felt warm all in his chest. Because he keeps the Thin Man. He was that important.
For a while he lay on the floor below the chair, and looked at his feet. Made sure his toenails were trimmed back, not cuts or scuffs went overlooked. And studied how the ends of his pant legs had frayed around his shins. He was searching for new clothing (he would never replace the very important coat), but his shirt was getting strips and streamers fell out, and he couldn’t keep up with mending his pants. Finding better clothing was always impossible, harder than foods. He could make do taking a shirt and fixing that into pants, with some sewing and a new strip of thread. Thread was easy to get.
His focus was broken when instead of the page flip, the chair whined and the static hummed. Turning his head, a long arm descended to the floor and the fingers lay on the musty carpet. Watching the inert hand, Mono weighed the options he had. He glanced up, but only saw the same back of the man in the hat’s head, his rumpled collar, and his neck. Returning his focus to the hand, he slowly rolled over onto his feet and hands, and scooted across the floor, eyes intent on that hand.
It wasn’t doing nothing. The fingers were curled and relaxed, the arm itself bent awkwardly because it was long and the chair was not – not for the Thin Man anyway. He studied the lines in the palm, the way it seemed fuzzy like static but also solid, but also grainy. And smoke. The Thin Man always smelled like smoke, and TVs.
On impulse he shoved his face against the palm and bit at the hand pad. “Grrr!” Sometimes he growled, other times he made what ‘grrr’ sounded like to him in speek. But bite and bite he did to the palm – not that it did anything.
Unexpectedly, his knee was pinched firmly and before he knew what was happening, he rolled away from the hand. Only to be lifted by his leg. His fingernails pawed at the grungy carpet, but he had no grips or handholds to find before he was whisked away and into the air. Upside down, and not in the best position to be in if he had a fall. All of that lasted a few seconds, and before he realized the full danger he had been in, Mono was plopped down on the crisp suit of the Thin Man.
He curled up on his side and bent both arms up, prepared for something. He didn’t really know what. However, the hand was no longer interested in him, and merely returned to the edge of the book held against the Thin Man’s midsection. Still with arms up, Mono shifted himself over enough to peer up at the Thin Man.
The face of his man and the hat was not meeting his eyes, but fixed on that book he flipped a page in. And watched. A stream of smoke spilled from the corner of his mouth, and the glow tip burned on the white stick. The Thin Man’s chest rose as he took a breath and Mono listened to the rustle of static, he balanced himself as more smoke drifted from the Thin Man’s lips. It was a steady rhythm – take a breath, and exhale the rich vapor that felt dry and warm. Mono let his muscles relax as his perch dipped again, and he watched the smoke swirl into the yellowed glare of the rooms light. Mystical and mysterious.
As the Thin Man took another gale of air, Mono did the same, felt his own ribs dip under his arms. But the rustling deep in the Thin Man went on-and-on-and-ooon for much longer, and Mono was taking his fifth frail thread of breath when the Thin Man exhaled a swell of smoke. The swirling smoke always fascinated Mono, especially the peculiar way the Thin Man ate them. He never got answers about that, but he did press his ear against the crisp suit and listened to the muffled boom-thrum-boom deep inside his Thin Man. That sounded so powerful and mighty. Nothing like the feeble flutter of Mono’s heart when he raced ahead of lashing hands. Nothing Mono ever did was as amazing as what the Thin Man did.
He relaxed only a margin, his shoulders sloped off the stiff spine they attached to. His fingers melded together and clasped tightly, he busied himself prying off a hangnail. The whole time he focused on the noises inside the Thin Man, instead of the creaking banter of the room. It was too hard to keep his eyes open for too long, and the gentle rock of the Thin Man in his busy work made him think that watch was happening and it was good watch. This was the best time to chase some rest, dream about a nest deep in a secluded hollow – rather than hiding under a table while something scratched around for the thing it sought.
The Thin Man shifted, but the soft page flip didn’t reach his ears. Opening his eyes a crease, he flinched back as a hand settled on his side. He stayed tense and wide eyed, even when careful touches pressed into his shoulder. A gravel hum vibrated through the Thin Man.
“Do you ever foresee yourself not withering at the faintest touch?”
Mono wasn’t sure about the speek. Not. Faint’hist. For sea. He hummed in a thoughtful reply to dispel the curiosity. When he was not gripped or moved from his spot, he turned over beneath the hand and looked up at the man and his hat. The face stared above and beyond him, to the book the Thin Man flipped through. He was always interested in the mark speek.
“Make werk,” he mumbled. “Was’ziizzz?” Usually the man and his hat never answered when he made speek. This time, a distant thunder rolled through the Thin Man.
“My busy work.” He flipped a page, as if to emphasize how effortless it was. “The book has answers and I must puzzle them out.”
Mono was only slightly interested to hear the speek puzz’zal. He was a clever child who knew many tricks and had tricked many vicious creatures.
“Hm.” He agreed with the Thin Man though. Then, tucked his knees up against his chest and rubbed his nose on one of the Thin Man’s fingers. A thumb carefully traced up and down his spine, absentmindedly, while the Thin Man searched for the puzzles in the mark speek. “Am…Mono’s like yu.” The smooth exhale ceased for a long while and the Thin Man became very still, much more still and for much-much longer than Mono could ever be. He gave a faint gasp as he drew in a quick breath. It was full of the rich flavor of smoke.
“You are N̶o̶t̶h̷i̶n̸g̸ like M̶e̵.”
Mono creaked his eyes open and waited. The Thin Man had not moved, and the delicate touch on his neck stopped. But he still held Mono. “Y’keep. A’u m’pooor-ant.” After a much longer and extended pause, a sigh crackled in the Thin Man.
“I S̷u̵p̵p̵o̴s̵e̸ so. I K̴e̷e̴p̶ the boy.”
“Mmm.” He hummed, and wriggled his body into a more comfortable position. The fabric of the suit was not softer than shredded rags or fur, but he did like the rhythmic movement of the Thin Man’s rustling whenever he took a sip on the smoke stick. It smelled much better than dirty cloth and musty dust, nothing was crawling in the threads. It was only the fragrant smoke smell he had come to adore so much, and the tinge of electrical stuff – like from the televisions when they sang. The static buzzed through Mono’s bones and fizzed in his nerves in a strange but pleasant way, tingling his nose sometimes.
It was so different from how once upon a time, he tucked in close to his pack for warmth, always fighting to bury himself against the other and hold onto the frail wisp of warmth built between them. Sometimes if he had his head pressed under the chest of another kid, he listened to the steady hum-bump-thump-hum-thump-bump while he did half-sleep. But the Thin Man made a boom-thrum-thrum-boom clammer, which vibrated through Mono as much as the sizzling static. The noise was loud enough to drown out his thoughts, and the vapor of faces fading away in his mind when the haunts in his dreams got so bad. Another page flipped, and the thumb slowly brushed down his back, sometimes tussling the hair on his head (he lost another hat. At this point, he didn’t know why he bothered.)
Aside from the noise inside the Thin Man and the noise of the page flipping, and sometimes the faint huff of smokey sigh, the man and his hat never acknowledged that Mono was ever there. Except to settle a hand soft on his side and brush at his hair. He kept the few stray strands off Mono’s face.
Sometimes, he tried to watch the man in the hat, who never looked down at Mono. Only at the book as another page flipped. But it was impossible for Mono to do watch and keep his eyes open. Not that he thought looking at the man and his mighty hat was boring (watch was always important), he just… when the Thin Man did the watch, and Mono was bundled in so much warmth and the touch so soft, and the wind hummed through a distant window – promising the worst rain and storming yet – he could not bear to keep his eyes open. Not when it was warm and dry, and he had company with his Thin Man.
Once again he opened his eyes, but he knew it had been for a while since he shut them. He recalled some of the tapestry of thoughts strung through his mind – of the Thin Man smiling in that faint way at him, and sharing food pieces with him. There was also the way the Thin Man would stop and look back as Mono caught up, waiting until at last he was in the long-crooked shadow before the man and his hat turned and resumed walking. He never made a sound – noisy children die – but the Thin Man always seemed to know when Mono was struggling to keep pace.
He didn’t look back so much anymore, didn’t wait anywhere. Mono always chased. He was the best at finding his Thin Man.
Except right now. The Thin Man keeps his best child. And Mono, creaked his eyes open to look out from beneath a stiff rag. He knows the Thin Man is there, the thundering thrum-boom-thrum rattled through him, but the hand and gentle touch was absent. The page no longer flutters beneath the creaking of the building, it is just the rustling and the broom-thrum-boom. He lifted his head, and saw the Thin Man’s face. But… the Thin Man wasn’t looking at him, or anywhere really. The worn and sculpted expression carried less etching, the eyes beneath the deep shadow did not glisten. The stick at his lips smoked, but did not glow much.
But when Mono began to shift and stretch – he was tucked under the lapel of the Thin Man’s crisp suit – the stick glowed with a soft orange glint, and a faint twinkle pricked the eyes.
“Hai.” He tried to look neutral. He didn’t know when or why he was settled under the coat. He must’ve snuck there without realizing it, when the Thin Man moved his hand away. He didn’t know how the Thin Man would take that.
“S̵̬̱̿͝h̵̠̋h̴̖̋.̴̛͔̫̓…” The man in the hat hissed. He raised his arms off his middle and stretched them far above his hat. “Y̶o̷u̷ M̵a̸k̶e̵ F̴a̵r̴ T̴o̶o̵ M̶u̸c̶h̵ S̷o̵u̷n̶d̴s̴.” Then he settled his arms across his middle and let his eyes dim once more. He took a long deep breath and sighed, some of the dust from the stick drifted away.
Mono didn’t think he was making ‘tu’much’ sounds. He didn’t argue either. Just rasped out carefully, “Y’sleep.” He dipped his head beneath the fold of the suit, defeating the purpose of going unnoticed. At first, the Thin Man didn’t make speek or utterance, aside from the deep thunder in his chest.
“N̶o̵. I̴ D̴o̶ N̷o̵t̴ S̷l̴e̸e̸p̸.” This noise made, while the Thin Man kept his eyes shut. And looking very much like he was halfway-sleep.
“Yu’ezz.” Mono rolled over onto his back, and watched the Thin Man upside down.
“I̵ A̷m̸ R̷e̶s̶t̶i̸n̴g̷ M̶y̴ E̴y̵e̸s̸. That is A̷l̷l̴.”
Mono huffed. Always lies. But ha-ha lie this time. “Yu’snore.” And he snorted in his nose. A little louder than he meant to. A sudden and frightening rattle shook through the Thin Man, prompting Mono to twist over and dig his fingers into the suit fabric. Only to realize…
Laugh. The Thin Man hah-hahed? Only a faint chuckle, but Mono was never so close to hear it like that! It made him all fuzzy and bristly inside, and he gazed at the Thin Man’s face in wonder. The Thin Man didn’t let his eyes glitter down at Mono (he was still sorta in sleep), but a small smile crept into the corner of his mouth.
“Is T̴h̴a̶t̸ what I S̷o̵u̸n̸d̸ L̴i̴k̴e̵?”
Mono stuck his tongue out at the Thin Man. Just to make sure he wasn’t secret looking. “Mm! Y’scuhhhh… GRRR. KUHHHH. ZHUUUUU—” He winced down under the coat crease, when the Thin Man patted where he was.
“D̴o̶ N̴o̷t̷ B̶e̴ N̶o̸i̶s̷y̷.”
“ʸ'ˡᵒᵘᵈ'ᵃʳʳ,” Mono muttered. But the Thin Man didn’t counter the insistence. He was quiet a moment, wondering if it was time for him to do the scout. He had to do watch, even if the Thin Man was an idiot and made speek, ‘Am na’sleep.' Mono knew better! He couldn't be fooled.
“Puzzle?” Mono hummed. He pressed his face into the Thin Man’s suit and sniffed at the balmy smoke. His voice was muffled, as he asked, “Make werk.” A soft rumble trampled the next humming boom.
“Hm…no.” The Thin Man sighed. “N̷o̷t̴h̷i̴n̶g̶ W̷o̷r̵k̴e̶d̶ in the marks.” He sounded… sad. But not bothered.
“Coz Mono? Am Mono.” He pulled his head up, and looked at the Thin Man. The eyes in the shadow of the hat glittered as they stared at him, somewhat distant and wistful, but seeing the boy. Mono! He watched back, blinking. The man in the hat could have the most so much gaze, it could make his legs feel weak and his head feel like soft lead.
Right now, Mono held that stoney, far-away stare. Did he see a different time with Mono, somewhere ago when on one of the strolls they had when the Thin Man stopped and looked back? Did the man or his hat remember those times? Or one of the times Mono stood between his shoes and stared down into an endless chasm, but it didn’t seem so endless or imposing because the Thin Man stood above him blotting out the rain. Did the Thin Man ever think of the times when he used to hold Mono like this, and tell him,
“I̵ K̸e̸e̶p̸ Y̵o̶u̶.”
Mono didn’t realize the Thin Man had slipped him out of the coat with careful fingers, or that he tucked Mono up under his chin. The crackling voice hummed in such a soothing, mysterious way through Mono’s entire body.
“Do not cry, Mono. I have you.”
He didn’t realize hot globs streaked down his face, not until the first gurgled hiccup. Then he was curling up in the Thin Man’s hands as he held him close. “S’am Mono. Y’have….” He muttered a few other noises, but they got lost in his thick whimpering.
“Y̸o̸u̶ A̸r̸e̶ A̵ S̵t̸r̴a̷n̵g̷e̷ C̷h̶i̴l̴d̴,” the Thin Man rumbled. The noise rocked through Mono, and he couldn’t help tuck closer to the Thin Man’s neck. “W̴a̷n̵t̵i̴n̷g̶ T̵o̷ B̷e̸ F̸o̶r̶ A̸ M̸o̸n̴s̵t̴e̷r̷.”
A deep (but pitifully miniscule compared to the Thin Man) shudder rebounded in Mono, as he croaked softly, “Am y’er child. Best.” A soft sigh whispered through Mono. The Thin Man squeezed his body, but in a good and soft way. Just right to feel had and wanted.
“I̸ S̵u̶p̴p̴o̵s̷e̸ S̴o̶.”
No more speek passed between them, no other sounds – except for Mono’s quivering sniffles, and the Thin Man’s raspy sighs. The walls of the building groaned against the wind, and the world outside battled for relevance beneath a pummeling storm. But Mono felt none of the biting wind or the stabbing rains. He only felt warm and kept by his Thin Man. He didn’t know how long he would have such a fleeting moment with his most favorite creature in all the city, but he chased these times with the same ferocity as did a monster once, when he chased a child through the streets of the Pale City.
So... I'm a little bit blocked with my current Salvation WIP, but I want to keep writing, so I may be working on a light coffee shop DariusxGrace AU just to be getting some words down and not just banging my head against the current heavy piece I'm struggling with.
[22:23] you and harry are cuddling in the Astronomy tower, his red and golden scarf wrapped around both your necks, forcing you to stay closer to each other. you stay quiet, just watching the breathtaking night sky, full of stars. he points at the Sirius star, saying it was his godfather's name and you smiled softly, seeing your favorite person's beautiful smile.
~ ♡
i wanted to try writing this short imagines bc they're kinda cute, what do you guys think about it??
