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Arc F1.9 | Chapter 4: Hold You Forever, If That’s What You Need

Mikhail brushed his fingers through the little boy’s hair. While he knew that Porsq was really a preteen, he felt like a child.Small. Innocent. Unsure of this big world he had found himself within yet again.

A skill, given to him by Halen, ran along his fingers, working the knots and mats out of the boy’s curly hair. Halen had designed it for the poor of the Grey Sands, who sometimes had hair like Porsq’s: these wild curls that, when left without care for more than a week, became gnarled and difficult to manage.

Halen had explained when Mikhail had messaged, soon after Porsq was given over to him, asking if his friend had any skills that might help him feel a bit better. The boy was small and dirty, and it hadn’t been difficult to tell that his hair must have been causing him pain.

Mikhail himself had a mop of blonde curls on his head, those curls often wrapping themselves around one another, creating tangles that brushes could do nothing for. Halen—in his loving, finicky, Halen fashion—had given both him and Codeth—and then later Coral, as well—specific skills for managing their hair.

he had insisted, as though Codeth and Mikhail hadn’t been sharing hair products and brushes on school trips since they were small. As much as he tried, Mikhail could never quite manage to remember everything he needed when they went on overnight trips. He thought that Codeth had started bringing extras of many things for them to share, at some point. Darrian as well. The other boy always seemed to have extra clothes to share. Mikhail wasn’t as tall as Darrian—few people in Baalphoria were as tall as the Zentaris—but they were both quite broad. So, he could make it work.

The skill Mikhail was using hadn’t been designed for Porsq, and it was bothering Halen—Mikhail had no doubt that when they were out of the city and near a Virtuosi Rig, his friend would sit and make skills to get everyone they were picking up clean and perfectly groomed, Olivier having mentioned that he was pretty sure Xavier’s hair would need to be shaved off, due to how matted it was.

Halen had complained into their group relay. The other boy was already upset that Baylor had cut the drop group’s new teenage member’s hair. It had only been once the girl had assured them—through Codeth, as this had been back when he was still with the drop group—that she was fine with the shorter hair and was just glad to be rid of the weighty, shit-soaked locks, that Halen had relented and told Baylor he had

This had, somehow, started an argument between the two. While Halen and Baylor often butted heads, Baylor becoming so upset because Halen had given him a compliment was strange.

Porsq started to say from the crook of Mikhail’s neck. The boy was quite tired, despite having napped on and off in Olivier’s arms for a while, and it took a moment for Mikhail to determine that his words hadn’t trailed off because he’d dozed off.

Instead, it was probably the other thing: Porsq was still in because of what had happened before, when the boy had influenced his mind and made him hand over Zavriel’s xphern to Olivier. A few people had told Mikhail, within their relays, that he should care a bit more about the boy using his abilities to manipulate him.

Mikhail… didn’t really care, though? It was clear that the boy was unsure of how to get on in the world. That was something Mikhail could understand. People like him and Simeon and Coral and a few other people at their school, like Bryce, had difficulties. Understanding people and situations was hard. Coral had once described figuring out how to behave like swimming through mucky water while surrounded by fog. It was thick and soupy, the bottom nothing but weeds brushing over feet, the shore something you either stumbled upon or didn’t.

Coral, however, was good at faking it—, she had called it. A counsellor had given her the word, back when she was small. they had said. Coral hadn’t said it, but Mikhail had a feeling the counsellor hadn’t said it nicely. Having also talked to counsellors, Mikhail knew what tones they used for kids who were : tones that said,

Porsq said, nose brushing against Mikhail’s neck as he worked another knot out. The boy’s hair was turning out to be rather long, now that it wasn’t composed of tight balls of knots. He also looked a little silly, parts of his hair cleaner and looser, while others were still untenable mats.

Mikhail said, curious as to what the preteen would have described his brain as. With how inside his mind Porsq was, Mikhail thought the boy already knew he wanted to know. So, he wouldn’t bother asking.

A long silence stretched between them, Porsq occasionally muttering that in some direction or another didn’t feel like someone they should get near. Aside from that one person they’d passed a while ago, who Porsq thought felt like one of Fräthk's loyal, they hadn’t passed anyone else the boy recognized. According to a short conversation they’d had when they first split from Oliver, Levi, and Gëon, Porsq was instead feeling out

the boy had said as they got moving.

Zavriel had agreed, taking a moment to babble about how he had been for a few years.

Mikhail thought Simeon part of the former group: someone so unchanging that he’d had the same haircut since he was a child. Rafe was part of the latter group: since breaking up with Emilia, he was barely more than a shell of his former self. Many parts of him were still there, but other parts had been hollowed out. It was disturbing, and Mikhail really wished he’d talk to Emilia properly.

Talking to people properly was often the better thing to do. Sometimes, feelings would be hurt. Other times, letting misunderstandings linger was the worst thing a person could do.

Porsq asked, Mikhail curious as to whether the little boy had heard something within his mind that would lead the boy to decide that was for the best. The lips against his neck twitched.

A laugh bubbled out of Zavriel, moving ahead of them, Gëon's small child peering over his shoulder as they were carted about.

Porsq shifted in order to look at the man, his bright-blue eyes seeming to stare straight through the man’s soul.

Mikhail replied when Porsq finally stopped staring into Zavriel’s back… or, maybe he’d been staring at the other child? They were so silent. Perhaps they were communicating with Porsq through their mind? Through those intentions Porsq could feel?

Porsq said, a bit of bite in his words. The boy’s lip wobbled, tears filling his eyes and turning them even brighter. They were really pretty. The huff the boy gave him implied that he’d felt at least of that thought. Was he odd? To be thinking about this boy’s pretty eyes when he was upset and thought himself a terrifying monster? Porsq replied, earning him a laugh from Mikhail this time.

Mikhail said, readjusting Porsq in his arms until they were eye to eye, a skill mapping his steps for him and leaving him to focus on the cute child in his arms,

Another laugh bubbled out of Zavriel, the man pointing out that, according to Mikhail’s initial explanation of the situation, their entire group was stalking each other’s vitals at the moment.

Mikhail agreed, trying his best to explain Emilia’s stalking function to Porsq, the boy’s mouth falling open.

Mikhail noted. His head cocked. Shrugging, Mikhail added that he thought there would be a few parts of their vitals people wanted to be rid of, or have more control of.

Porsq asked, his body tightening like he expected that here, in the moment, he would learn where their group’s lines lay. Clearly, it seemed that the boy thought his abilities would be behind that line, his abilities forbidden from use on them. Maybe he even thought he himself would be forbidden from interacting with them, due entirely to that line.

Mikhail said.

Zavriel hissed, the child in his arms giggling—or giving as close to a giggle as Mikhail thought the child capable of.

Mikhail pointed out, giving Zavriel . Due to growing up alongside Emilia, most of their age group had heard negative things being said about her and the sex drive she would eventually grow to have for as long any of them could remember. There was a chance, he supposed, that this had skewed what he thought of as acceptable things to say to preteens? Although… how old was the other child?

the child in question said, a note of offence filling their voice, Somehow… Mikhail thought this terrifying child had killed a predator before. Good for her? Sucky that they’d ended up needing to do so, but good for them, for doing what needed to be done?

Also, good for Gëon. The man might be a crime lord, but anyone who trusted kids was a good person. Too many adults brushed aside the children got from people, barely even listening to their concerns before deeming them incorrect. Mikhail liked people who always listened to kids, even if they still decided their opinions and feelings were wrong in the end.

Porsq interjected before Zavriel could say anything more, the man’s face an increasingly aggrieved mask of horror. Had he not realized what sort of life these children lived? The terrible people they must have crossed paths with?

Something in the boy’s tone, though… it was the sort of hurt, dead-inside tone that had Mikhail automatically pulling the boy closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead, the way he had seen Olivier do several times. Mikhail couldn’t explain it, but he knew, from that single statement alone, that this little boy had been hurt by a terrible adult. Never again.

he said, brushing the tears that had finally spilled over from Porsq’s cheeks.

The child didn’t answer, instead burying himself back against Mikhail. A dozen slipped out of the boy, and Mikhail didn’t know what he was saying to, but he knew that this little boy was sweet and needed to be protected. The world hadn’t been a good place for him. Mikhail was going to make sure the world became a better place for him.

Somehow, this set Porsq off sobbing even harder. That was okay. The kid had been through a lot. Mikhail would hold him for as long as he needed someone to hold him.

the boy murmured, so soft Mikhail barely heard it over his tears.

he replied, returning to running his fingers through the boy’s hair and letting him cry to his little heart’s content.