Chapter Text
Dara trailed his finger over the edge of his wrists. The bruises had nearly faded away completely. He didn't hurt much anymore. Healing spells were always handy, not that they worked as much as they should have but Dara had been distressed and weary from the world crashing down around him. He had tried to paint over the cracked foundation with denial for as long as possible but they just grew and grew until it all fell down on his stupid little head and he had to admit that Ames had been right.
Calix didn't love him.
Calix wasn't going to stop if he said no.
His breath hitched and he bit down on his bottom lip to trap the sobs in his throat.
He hated existing here, living like a shadow in streets he had only viewed from high up, people crawling like ants, clothes waving from their lines like colorful flags. “A bad neighborhood,” Calix always said. “Don't go there after dark, better yet, don't go there at all. You wouldn't survive a single second.”
Dara had wrinkled his nose. “Why would I go there?”
Calix had shrugged. “You never listen to me. Too curious for your own good, always questioning when you can leave me.”
“I don't want to leave you, sir. I’m just curious about… well, everything.”
“There’s reasons you can’t go out, I’ve told you.”
Dara had believed that it had been out of concern, love even. He had been dumb enough to believe this through the beatings and the namecalling and the sex. Only when Dara had stopped being a pliant, naive child did the ownership and control become clear.
He was free now.
And cold.
So cold.
He missed being dry. Missed his books. Missed Calix. He shouldn't but he did anyway. He missed the times when things were still good. When he was still an idiot swathed in heaps of denial.
He huddled closer to the wall.
Maybe he could go back. It had only been a couple days, Calix would be happy to see him again surely. Dara would cry and spin a tale of being angry and stupid and apologize for trying to run away. Then Calix would lock the door even tighter and Dara would never see the sky again. No, better to stay here, trembling against the wall like the little match girl. At this rate he would die like her too. Maybe his dead parents would be kind enough to carry his soul away.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
Dara startled and pulled himself up from the wall. He cursed himself, the ally had seemed like a good idea at first, there was only one entrance so he could see who was coming. He hadn't thought someone would see him, turning the one entrance into only one exit. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Go away.”
“I won't hurt you.”
Dara wasn't dumb enough to believe that anymore. “I will not return the favor.”
She laughed lowly. “You're not from here are you? Bless your heart.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because if you were,” she slowly walked closer, “you would know better than to make empty threats. Come on, just tell me where you're from and I can contact your family and then we’ll both go home.”
“I don't have a family. Go away.”
“We’ll contact other people who’ll help you then. Can't just leave a little lamb like you dawdling around to be eaten. Or worse.”
Dara understood very well what worse meant. “I’m not going with you.” She rolled her eyes and moved to grab his arm. “I said no!”
With the last word a wave of energy slammed into her and lifted her off the ground. He stared wide eyed at her prone form. It wasn't safe for her to stay here unconscious, she would be easy prey. But Dara was vulnerable too, he wouldn't be able to help her. “Sorry,“ he whispered as he walked past her prone body.
He was almost out of the alley when her hand shot out to grab his ankle, he went down, her weight on top of him keeping him still, her arm restricting his breathing. “I’m sorry too.” Then she fisted a hand in his hair and slammed his face into the ground hard enough that he saw stars. Then again, this time he saw only black.
He woke up with a headache pounding away at the back of his eyelids, the soft voices floating through the air worsening it.
“We can use this.”
“He’s a child.”
“Lehrer’s child.”
Dara flinched at the name, instinctively trying to curl up only to realize that he couldn't move. He forced his eyes open to see them cuffed to the bed. Don't panic.
He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Then he pushed at the handcuffs with all his might but they didn't do him the favor of breaking. On the contrary, they twisted tighter around him and heated up. He screamed as the hot metal branded into his skin.
“Claire!”
“Fuck. Stop it.” At her words the handcuffs sprung open and Dara grabbed the opportunity to curl over his knees, hiding his blistering wrists from view. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she did sound sorry but Dara was done believing people.
“Don't touch me.”
“You're burned. I can help.”
He kicked at her. “I said don't touch me.”
She looked at him earnestly. “If I wanted to do something to you I would have done it.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Dara snapped. Her shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry-”
“You say that a lot.”
“- the fact that you would use magic to escape slipped my mind. If it had I wouldn't have put you in these.”
Dara studied her carefully. “Are you like me?”
She smiled. “I think so. Though, I couldn't slam people in the ground at your age. Not with magic at least.”
“You don't even know my age.”
“Dara Shirazi. 15 years old. Born 25 october 2001. Adopted son of Calix Lehrer.”
Dara looked at her, then at the woman next to her, trying to hide his fear but he didn't think he managed well. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Claire.”
“I’m Priya,” the other girl said.
“How do you know these things?”
“Your dad has many enemies.”
“And you work for them.”
Claire shrugged languidly. “Sometimes.”
“What do you want from me?”
She cocked her head. “Well, we don't know yet. We could ransom you. We could use you to blackmail Lehrer into doing all kinds of things. We could give you to one of our sometimes employers to do with what they want.”
“We’re not going to do that,” Priya said quickly, shooting Claire a warning look. But the issue with the other two is that it will put us on Lehrer’s radar, which we don't want. You don't have to be afraid! We won't hurt you but it might be a little while before we can get you back to your dad.”
“You can't give me back.”
Claire frowned impatiently. “Why not?”
Dara’s stomach turned to lead. “You just can't!”
“What do you suggest we do instead? Keep you?”
“Yes.” Claire scoffed and Priya looked pitying but tired. “I’m like you. I’m powerful. I could help you.”
“How?”
“With magic. Whatever you want, I won't run away, I promise.”
Claire sighed. “Kid-”
“You can't give me back.”
“Why not?”
Dara’s heart was pounding in his throat. He didn't want to tell them but they couldn't give him back to Calix. He would never leave his room again. “Because- sometimes- uhm-” Dara swallowed hard. “He- when I make him mad he-” He felt himself start to turn red as he tried to vocalize what Calix had done to him. It’s not even everything. Just three words. He hits me.
“Did he give you the bruises?”
“Yeah,” he blurted out.
Claire’s eyes were hard. “All of them?”
“What- what do you mean?”
The women shared a tense look. “We had to get you into dry clothes to avoid hypothermia… ” She gave him a meaningful look but Dara only stared back, still and tense. “When we changed your clothes we saw a lot of bruises. A lot. Some were… well. Bad,” she finished lamely.
Not all of those had been made in anger but Dara wasn't going to tell them that. “He gets mad sometimes,” Dara whispered. More than mad, absolutely furious. Dara had never known hurricanes could live in people until Calix lost it. He didn't get like it every day but often enough that nowadays Dara always wore long sleeves. He had been so soft when they first became a thing, giving gift after gift wrapped in honey sweet whispers and all Dara needed to do to keep him like that was stay pliant and moan his name. He had only gotten aggravated once Dara stopped being at his beck and call, once he noticed other boys, other men looked at Dara too, that Dara liked it.
“So I guess giving you back to Lehrer isn't an option then.”
“Guess not.”
She bit her lip. “We can't keep him here.”
“Claire.”
“I’m serious. We will be suspicious. If Lehrer has even the faintest idea we exist he will look for him here.”
“Where do you suggest we put him?”
Dara was starting to get annoyed. “I’m here you know.”
Priya gave him a tired smile. She hesitated for a moment. “Do you think you could live alone?”
“I’m not a child.” She looked sad but didn't fight him on it. “I can take care of myself.”
She shared another tense look with Claire. “We’ll get you something to eat.”
“And then what?”
“We don't know yet.”
“You can let me leave.” Priya gave him a flat look and Claire raised her eyebrows. Dara frowned and bit his lip. There had to be something they would want. He didn't know them but he wasn't sure if he would survive on his own, they were not trustworthy but they also hadn't sold him out yet, and they only hurt him slightly. Here would be better than outside, he decided. They weren’t outright hurting him and at the very least they hadn't tried to touch him yet, unless they were like Ames’s father who came into Dara’s room to watch him the few times he was allowed to sleep over, while Dara squeezed his eyes shut tightly and wished he could press his hands against his ears to block out the heavy breathing. He shook his head. No, not now. There was no evidence they were like him so he would operate as if they were the better option. “I know magic. I’m powerful. I can help you,” he assured.
“How?”
“I know a lot I can assist in whatever way you need me to.” Dara was exceptionally talented, Lehrer always said so. Elemental magic, transformation, illusion, he had even shown predisposition for psychic abilities. The only thing where he steadfastly continued to be a failure was necromancy. The main thing Calix had desired of him.
Besides the other stuff.
Claire gave him an apologetic look. “Even if you could we don't have the funds to support you indefinitely.”
“I can work.”
“Do you have any experience?”
“No, but-”
“Is Lehrer looking for you right now?”
“Probably not here!”
Claire sighed. “Kiddo-”
“I’ll use magic,” Dara burst out. “Witches are rare, my abilities will be sought after.”
“A witch draws attention.”
Dara rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying you should put my face on a billboard just word to mouth, keep it on the bad side of town. I can help you with, I don't know, counterfeit or money laundering, or whatever you need and provide other services to people. Like small healing spells or good luck charms. Nothing that betrays I’m powerful, if someone comes asking questions I’ll say I’m one of those alternative doctors.”
Priya and Claire looked tensely at each other but he could see that Claire was interested. “What if Lehrer comes asking?”
“He won't, he doesn't have people in these groups and I’m not the only witch in Durham, he’ll never find me, please.”
Priya gave him another long silent look. “Food first,” she said with a small smile and the beginning of a promise in her voice. “Then we’ll talk more.”
Dara’s new apartment was small. Tiny. Tinier than his entire room at home but that was okay.
There was a lock on this door. The walls were cracked and bare, the window tiny and the bed was lumpy.
Priya shrugged apologetically when she noticed his wandering eyes. “Told you it’s not a lot.”
He turned to her. “It’s more than you had to do. Thanks.”
She smiled and nodded. “My pleasure. Try to stay inside, Lehrer is looking for you. The bar downstairs is owned by a man called Leo, he’s a friend and will try to help you if you need it. Try to stay out during business hours though because you might be spotted. There’s some food in the cabinet. Claire will get more blankets tomorrow. You have your phone and our and Leo’s numbers are in it. Also-”
“Priya?”
“What?”
“Thank you. A lot. But I’ll be fine. I’m not one year old. I won't die if I roll onto my stomach.”
“I know but you're still a little kid.”
“I’m basically an adult.” Calix had always told him so. That he was grown enough to choose what to drink, how to fight, who to fuck. Apparently not old enough to decide who he didn't want to fuck.
“A short adult.” Priya ripped him from his thoughts, smiling playfully, reaching out her hand to ruffle his hair and Dara flinched. Her smile dropped as did her hand. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll ask next time.”
“I said it’s fine!” He felt bad about getting so mad without warning but she just sighed, which made Dara more mad because adults always sighed when they were tired of him, when they had decided his opinion was worthless just because of his age.
“I know you're fifteen and I know you've been through a lot but you need to understand that you're still very young, there are certain things you just can't see or consent to yet which is why you're legally still a child and even though you're close to being an adult you're still not quite there yet. You haven't even stopped growing.”
“Hopefully,” Dara muttered.
She smiled. “If you had been over eighteen I would still be worried because living on your own for the first time is difficult. Okay?”
Dara averted his eyes to avoid her gentle kindness and kicked the floor. “Kay.”
“Good. I have to go now, help Claire with something. Leo will-
“Be downstairs from 4 pm to 1 am, I know.”
“Just want to be sure.”
She opened the door and Dara was hit with a burst of anxiety. “When will you be back?”
She paused. “Three days. If you text me I promise I’ll try to respond.”
“I just,” Dara shrugged uncomfortably. “I will probably need supplies soon.”
“We’ll get them to you. Bye, Dara.”
“Stay safe.”
She gave him a broad smile. “I will. Don't worry.”
She shut the door before Dara could tell her that he wasn't worried he just wanted his stuff soon she was gone. He threw himself on the bed and hugged his pillow- childish, he knew it was childish and he shouldn't act like this but he felt like acting like this and there was no one around to sharply remind him of how unadult he was being so he wasn't going to stop.
It’s not like he liked Priya or Claire he just… didn't like to be alone. He would get bored and then his thoughts would grow into a convoluted maze of thorns and he wouldn't know how to get out again. Calix had often left him alone, either by being away or ignoring him but Dara had gotten used to laying curled up on the couch with a book while Priya counted out ammunition and Claire carefully stitched her favorite jacket back together, both talking idly about how bad traffic would be and if they should go after the dealer that had sold them fake sedatives.
Dara swung his legs behind him and sighed, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the apartment. This place probably had mold or something. Ugh.
His eyes fell on his bag - Claire’s bag but she didn't want it anymore, she said so at least- and he slowly reached out to it, throwing a quick look at the locked door, before grabbing it and rummaging through it until he found the small package he had stored at the very bottom of it. He unwrapped the old shirt from around it and traced his finger along the edge of the old watch Calix had given him for his birthday.
It had only been 3 months ago. He had smiled as he had gifted it to Dara. “Picked it out myself. Do you like it? Of course you do. Try it on.” And Dara had been so happy with it, with the fact that Calix had taken the time out of his busy schedule to pick a gift just for him, had reverently traced the gold of the clasp, felt the coolness on his skin slowly warm up. Calix had expected a thank you afterwards, not being satisfied with a smile and a kiss but most of the day had been good and the gift was still nice so Dara had taken the watch with him when he left.
He felt his face twist as he held the watch. He shouldn't have taken it with him but he liked it, even if he didn't love Calix anymore he could still love the watch. And at the time it had seemed like a little something to remember Calix by, a way of saying ‘you're my past now and I will only see you in memories’ but deep down Dara always knew it was because he missed him. He was an unlovable little child that missed his dad and couldn't even manage to save himself.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. Calix was in the past, Dara was no longer trapped in a tower. He no longer lied to himself about how he was locked up because he was coveted and precious instead of owned. So it didn't matter that Dara missed him and it didn't matter that sometimes he felt hands -some gentle, some not, always insistent- on his body.
Dara didn't know why he was like this. No one was hurting him anymore but he was feeling more and more awful every day. Constant headaches and it seemed he was more tired waking up than when he went to bed. Claire and Priya said it must be the stress and the changes all catching up to him. Claire said that it happened often, that sometimes people were fine when going through something but it still sat there, waiting to fuck with your mind and body.
Sitting and pouting wasn't going to help him so he gently put the watch in a drawer before leaving. He wanted to see this Leo up close.
Leo was in the middle of cleaning the bar when Dara stomped inside. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Hey.”
Dara folded his arms over his chest and didn't say anything in return, instead inspecting the establishment with disdain. Leo didn't seem to be offended by being ignored, merely giving Dara an amused look before refocusing on his cleaning as Dara slowly walked around the bar. It was worn but surprisingly clean, he noted. He made his way back to Leo, hopping onto a bar stool and folding his arms on the table, he trailed his eyes over the liquor and wrinkled his nose. “Do you have anything good?”
Leo didn't stop cleaning. “Doesn't really matter, does it?”
“Why not?”
“You're not getting any of it,” he said decisively.
“I can pay.”
“That's not why you're not getting a drink. Besides water.”
“Uhg.” Dara rested his chin on his hands and looked forlornly at the bottles. This was stupid. It’s not like Dara hadn't drunk before.
“I also have peanuts.”
“I don't want your peanuts.”
“Alright,” Leo said and shoved a bowl of them towards Dara along with a club soda. Dara glared at him for a long moment before starting to eat. “Any reason you're here?”
“Just curious.”
Leo nodded. “Tell me if you need anything.” Then he threw the towel over his shoulder and Dara- Dara couldn't stop himself. He flinched. Leo froze at the movement. There was a loaded pause. “It would probably be smart if you tried to avoid coming in during business hours, a fifteen year old in here will draw attention but text me if there’s an emergency or something.” Dara nodded and started on his soda. Leo didn't ask questions, just kept cleaning as Dara studied the labels while sipping his drink.
Eventually Leo made him leave and he retreated back to his apartment.
Dara had started having nightmares.
Almost always Calix would be there. Sometimes he would be angry, sometimes he would be so painfully gentle, sometimes he would be sad. Sad that Dara left him, worried about how he was going to survive, you're making me lose sleep, my dear , he would say and Dara would hunch forward and remind himself that this was a monster, a tired, bereaved monster but who said monsters couldn't be tired or bereaved?
Sometimes he would see other things. A small house going up in flames with bloody curls spread out over its floors, a tall man with burning eyes looking out of a window, smoking a cigarette, Lehrer with more gray in his hair and the shadow of a new boy at his side. And sometimes he would dream he was lying in bed, looking at the contrast between his hand and the stark white sheets, a warm weight would roll against his back and a hand- too dark to be Lehrer’s- would slide over his arm until it could take his, intertwine their fingers and squeeze gently. “Baby,” the person would rumble against his ear and Dara would feel safe. Such an odd feeling.
He’d started spending the evenings into Leo’s backroom. Leo wasn't happy with the new arrangement but as long as Dara stayed quiet and didn't touch anything with alcohol in it he didn't say anything. Dara had started to help clean up at closing time, even managed some conversation without overt bitchiness. Afterwards Leo would playfully pull his hood over his head and walk him home. Telling him firmly to lock the door behind him and to go to sleep immediately. Dara ignored the weird feelings in his stomach whenever that happened.
Claire vehemently protested this arrangement. She and Dara argued for hours about what his sleep schedule should look like.
“It’s not like I have anything to do during the day so I can sleep as long as I want.”
“Yeah, but you're still growing or,” she gestured wildly through the air, “something. Sleep is important.”
“You're not my mother!” Dara had screamed.
She had screamed right back. “I’m the closest thing you have to it aren't I?”
Dara didn't have an answer to that so Claire had stormed out.
(“I’m sorry for yelling,” she’d said later. “I know it's hard for you.” She’d handed him an old mp3 player along with headphones. “So you’ve got something to do when you're waiting on Leo to finish. Don't show your face though, you're too hard to raise to take chances, ya little shit.” And if Dara had let her hug him that didn't mean anything. If he had hugged back it was only out of politeness.)
They’d figured that it would be easiest to run Dara’s new services from his apartment. While no one was happy about people being aware of his place of residence commuting was risky. If anything dangerous happened they would have to move him, something Dara was bummed about and had complained about at length to Leo.
“I’ll visit if that happens.”
Dara had turned beet red. “I- That’s not why I’m mad about it. It’s because it’s a hassle to move!”
“Alright.”
“Shut up.”
Eventually enough of the stuff he asked for had arrived. Not everything, some things were simply too expensive and it turned out that not everyone had access to carnivorous flowers from Malaysia but he managed. They wouldn't let him come into contact with people directly, he would only get the details, do his magic and then bring the results to Claire and Priya. He would spend his nights with Leo singing softly while binding willow, rosemary and selenite together so Claire and Priya could sell them on the black market.
Rumour had spread anyway. Dara wasn't sure what they said, whether they told about his magic or if they painted him closer to a drug dealer but people started seeking him out. Letters had started arriving along with his food and books. I’m always tired. My daughter keeps having headaches. How do I get his attention?
Dara didn't know, he wasn't a doctor but most of these people couldn't afford doctors so he would try. When they couldn't afford to pay money he asked for other things. Something you love, something you hate, anything. They seemed wary about giving him this stuff, they should be. It wasn't smart to trust witches with things like these but Dara wasn't going to do anything to anyone so he didn't feel bad about it.
He was barely anything more substantial than a fairytale. People whispered about him, half drunk and bent closely together. A witch. A woman. A man. A child no older than ten.The only thing the stories agreed on was that he was dangerous and that his work was good.
He didn't know how the boy had found his address but when Dara pressed his face to the peephole he was greeted with a mess of brown hair and determined eyes. When Dara stayed quiet the boy knocked again. And again. And again until Dara was ready to throw him down the stairs. “I know you're there and I’m not leaving!” Dara would have been impressed if his voice didn't break halfway through the sentence.
Dara cracked the door open, making sure to put his shoulder behind it in case the kid had any ideas. “What do you want?”
“I need your help.”
“I don't sell braces.”
The boy turned red but didn't move. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “I know that you're a witch.”
Dara narrowed his eyes at him. “Name Calling isn't very nice.”
“Don't play dumb.”
“I’m not playing at all. Goodbye.” Dara made to slam the door shut but the boy threw himself against it with a strength that could only be born from desperation.
“No, wait! Please, my dad needs help!”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“Please, he’s an immigrant, no one will help him. He only has me.”
The boy was crying now and Dara… Shit. “What’s wrong with him?”
The boy sniffled loudly. “You’ll help?”
“I don't know if I can. You need to tell me what he has.”
“He’s not moving anymore.”
Dara frowned. “Just stopped or something?”
The boy looked down at his feet and wiped his sleeve over his face, Dara tried not to look too panicked at the thin outline of a child standing on his doorstep. “My mom killed herself.”
Oh. “I’m sorry.”
“Everyone seems to be but I can’t do anything with sorry.”
“And I can’t do anything without details about your father’s condition,” Dara said with raised eyebrows.
“Right.” The boy took a couple of deep breaths. “He’s not moving. He just sat down and- and- just stopped!”
“Doing what?”
“Everything! He doesn't speak, doesn't eat, he can move but it takes so long he might as well not do it at all.”
“What’s your name?”
“Noam.”
“Noam, it doesn't sound like a physical problem. I think it’s in his head.”
“So?”
Dara shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure if I can help.”
Noam set his jaw. “Alright.” He held out his bag. “Here.”
“What’s that?”
“Money. Everything we have.”
Dara sighed. “It’s not about money. It’s about the mind being much more intricate than the body and I can't do much about it.”
“Nothing?” Noam sounded like he might cry again and Dara hated crying children, so much.
“Just- Hold on.” He slammed the door closed and pressed his back against it. What was he supposed to do ? He ripped open his cabinet. Someone who was unresponsive. Maybe they needed a shock? Something to startle them back to reality? Smelling salts? Or maybe the cognitive functions were lowered? Dara grabbed everything he could think of, sage, peppermint, rosemary, maca, golden root, guarana, ginseng. Using all of them probably wouldn't hurt. Right? Dara blew out a breath. His job wasn't supposed to be stressful. He was supposed to get a letter, make a remedy and then never think of that person again. He shouldn't have to deal with a crying half orphan or whatever Noam was. He gathered all the herbs and the smelling salts and opened the door again. “Here.”
Noam stared at him with wide eyes and didn't move. “Open the bag, dumbass.”
“Right.” Noam started to fight with the zipper. Dara glimpsed crumpled up dollar bills, coins and small pieces of jewelry. He dumped everything on top of the money.
“You have to make him smell the salt. It should force a reaction. And you have to burn two leaves of every herb daily. I’m not sure if it will help but it won't hurt at least.”
“Thank you,” Noam breathed out. He stuck his hand in the bag and rummaged around. “You forgot the money.”
“Keep it.”
“What? But you-”
“I don't want it!” Noam flinched at his tone so Dara forced himself to soften. “You seem like you need it more than I do.”
“I can't just leave you with nothing.”
“It’s fine.”
Noam was staring at him and Dara realized with a shock that he had forgotten to keep the door closed and Noam could see all of him. “You're not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Someone- uh- older?” Dara huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “I didn't think you would be so pretty.” Noam flushed and looked to his feet again.
Dara felt himself start to smile and quickly suppressed it. “I hope your dad will be okay.”
Noam looked at him earnestly. “Me too.”
Dara shifted his weight. “Will you tell anyone about me?”
“No. I promise.”
“Thanks.” Dara smiled at him. “You should get home. Before it gets dark.”
“Yeah.” Noam pulled his backpack closer to his body. “Uhm, I never got your name.”
“It’s Dara.”
“Dara,” Noam said slowly. “Goodbye.” Then he ran down the stairs as fast as he could.
Dara didn't tell anyone about Noam. He didn't know why but he believed him. Noam wouldn't tell. So he told Claire and Priya that he went through all his herbs so quickly because he tried to experiment but it failed. They just shrugged and got him more.
They’d brought him to buy a laptop. For school they said. Dara went with them to a worn down shop, pressed in between the both of them with glamour pulled over his face. Turning bright red when the cashier commented on what an adorable family they were. Afterwards they downloaded every university book pdf they could find on it which meant Dara’s days went by quicker which was always a good thing. His thoughts had become worse somehow, he hated himself, he hated that he couldn't do anything, he hated that he was weak and that eventually he would be left behind because he was broken.
“Can’t I go to a real university?”
Priya shot him a wary look from where she laid on his bed. “You know it’s dangerous.”
“I go out with you two all the time, you know I can disguise myself.”
“Yeah, but can you do that flawlessly for an entire day?”
“Probably!”
“It’s risky. And you need papers. And you're fifteen.”
“I don't want to stay here forever.”
“Not forever.” Priya nervously tugged on her hair. “Just for a while longer. Until it’s safe again. We’ll talk more after dinner, okay?”
“I don't want to eat.”
“I know,” Priya said, face pained.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Did you eat lunch?” Dara picked at his nails. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“Why do you care?”
“Have you been sleeping? Have you been having odd thoughts?”
“I’m not crazy!”
“I’m not saying you are crazy but Leo brought something up the other day and it got me thinking-”
Dara raised his eyebrows. “Leo talks about me to you?”
“No. I mean, sometimes. Like if you've been tired or something, that kinda stuff, but he said something and it got me thinking and I believe there's a chance you might be depressed. I mean, Lehrer clearly wasn't the best parental figure and you're very isolated all the time and, well, yeah. I thought that might be an option.”
Dara looked into her deepblack eyes for a long tense moment before snorting loudly. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Priya asked, bewilderment scrawled across her face.
“I am. I even had stuff for it back at- you know.”
Priya nodded slowly, gracefully brushing past Dara’s slip up. “Oh. And you stopped taking them?”
“Yes, I didn't think to take them with me, only grabbed the bare minimum.” And the watch.
Priya’s mouth fell open. “I- You- You just stopped?”
“Yes.” Dara jiggled his leg impatiently. God, Claire and Priya were nice but sometimes-
“What were you taking?”
Dara frowned at her panicked tone. “Prozac.” She shrieked and her hands flew through the air. “Is that bad?”
She shot upright. “You can't just stop taking meds! That's dangerous. You need to at least discuss it with a doctor. Dara!”
Dara shrugged, a bit awed at the restlessness emanating from her. Normally she was so steady but now her hands were gesturing with every word and her eyes were wide. “It’s not like I had them with me.”
She ignored him “Oh my god, that’s why you were sick at first,” Priya moaned.
“It doesn't matter.”
“Yes, it does!”
“I’m fine!”
Priya made a doubtful face and Dara stuck out his tongue at her which made her smile, just a little. “There’s a reason you were taking those things. Maybe you'll feel better if you take them again.”
“I don't think it’s necessary.”
“Dara-” She pressed her lips together tightly before smiling and rubbing a warm hand over his back. “Think about it, okay? For me.”
Dara rolled his eyes. “Okay.”
It seemed to be enough for her as she smiled and changed the subject to something innocuous and stupid that they could playfully argue about until Claire came in with her arms full of takeout. “Eat up, you animals.”
Dinner was calm, Dara cross legged on the bed, Claire on the only chair he owned with Priya leaning against her knees. Afterwards Claire set her empty container down on his desk and inspected the damaged yellow nailpolish on her fingernails. “Did Priya talk to you yet, kid?”
Dara shot her a wary look. “Yes.”
“What’d you say?”
“I would think about it.” Dara trailed a finger around a hole on the bottom of his sock so he wouldn't have to look at her disappointed face.
Claire settled her elbows on her knees. “I know I’m not Priya. I’m pushy and annoying about things like this.”
“That sounds like Priya.”
“Yeah, it does.” Priya made an insulted noise from the floor. Claire stroked her fingers through her hair. “Could win an argument from an empty room,” she said reverently. Her eyes flitted back to Dara’s face for a moment. “It’s good that you're thinking about it.”
Dara just traced patterns on the bed and didn't acknowledge her.
Dara was curled up in bed, sheets pulled over his head to block out the lights. He really should ask for some curtains. And for whatever idiot was knocking on his door to shut up. Dara pulled his pillow over his head and moaned miserably. What kind of dick was here at 5 am?
Dara shouldn’t answer. A boy with his looks without any parental supervision living alone attracted a certain kind of attention, one that wasn't welcome anymore. Maybe Leo had forgotten something, or maybe he just wanted to see Dara. Dara bit his lip and slowly slid out of bed, he risked a look in the mirror and ran his hands through his curls. Fuck, he needed a haircut. He pressed his eye against the peephole. Noam was shifting uncomfortably, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Dara ripped the door open and dragged him inside. “What are you doing here?”
Noam froze, a split second of fear flashing through his eyes but he didn't back down. “I never paid you?”
Dara lit up. “Your dad is better?”
Noam’s shoulders slumped. “No.”
Dara twisted a curl between his fingers, trying not to panic. “I’m not sure I have anything else to try.”
“Oh.”
Dara felt horrible, all this power and he couldn't help a single person, but he had looked around and whatever Noam’s father had was bad. Like heavy medication bad. And while Dara was powerful he didn't have anything he could use to fix someone's brain . “So, why are you here?”
“Oh, right.” Noam rummaged through his backpack to pull out three damaged books. “I know you said payment wasn't necessary but I would feel bad if I didn't give you something.”
“Noam,” Dara sighed. “You're very sweet but I didn't really do anything.”
“You tried, that's important too. Here, take them.”
Dara hesitantly took the damaged books from him. “Thanks.”
“They're not really mine but Mrs. Brown said I could have them.” Noam shifted uncomfortably in the silence that fell. “I hope you like communism.”
Dara smiled as he slowly turned Das Kapital around. “Yeah, it’s interesting.”
Noam brightened. “It is, right? I think it’s the best alternative we have, well maybe not. Maybe anarchism is better. Any government is vulnerable to corruption after all. Are you a communist?”
Dara blinked at the waterfall of words clattering from Noam’s mouth. “I think I’m closer to a socialist. I haven't really thought much about it, not really a fan of violent revolution though.”
Noam frowned. “It’s necessary sometimes.”
Dara shrugged. “Yes, but revolutions leave people behind. Especially vulnerable ones. Wouldn't it be better to have a peaceful transition into a better world?”
“It would be but it’s not always possible. Peaceful transitions are slow, they leave people behind too. It’s just less obvious and therefore more acceptable. And,” Noam said, folding his arms over his chest, “this revolution will be for vulnerable people.”
Dara slowly traced the pages of one of his books as he considered his words. “Maybe, but I still hate violence.”
Noam looked up at him, a frown between his eyebrows. “Violence isn’t always bad.”
“Some kinds are, like senseless violence or violence against children.”
“But what if it wasn't senseless?”
“Then it’s still violence. Whether you think it’s acceptable violence doesn't change its nature.”
“I guess that’s true.” Noam gave him an intense look. “Some people deserve it.”
“Some people do,” Dara amended.
Noam looked at him for a little longer before nodding decisively.
Dara leaned back against his desk .“You have to be careful about believing you are right, that your violence is pure. History is littered with people who told themselves that while only founding misery.”
“I would never be like them.”
Dara blew a curl out of his face. “Maybe they said that too.”
Noam didn't answer, just stared at his scuffed up shoes. “I should go.”
“Late for school?” Dara asked with a smirk.
Noam shook his head. “Late for work.”
“Please tell me you have a free day or something.”
“No, I, uhm,” Noam slowly turned red. “I had to drop out.”
Dara bit his lip. “What kinda job do you have?”
“I work at a computer store. And I’m going to try and get a second job at a grocery near my house. The owner knows my family so I think I’ll get it.”
Dara considered the boy in front of him for a long moment. “Are you any good?”
“What?”
“Are you good at computers?”
“Good enough to find you. Why?”
“I might be able to help you find work. If you're open to that.”
Noam frowned suspiciously at him. “What kind?”
“I don't know. It won't be for me but for people who… work with me.”
“This sounds like human trafficking,” Noam deadpanned.
Dara rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. “It’s not human trafficking. Are you interested or not?”
Noam glared at him, he wouldn't refuse, Dara knew that already. People like Noam didn't get a choice. “I am.”
“Good. Do you have a phone?” Noam gave him a flat look. “An address then?” Noam grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and scribbled something down.
“Are they going to hurt me?”
“No, they're nice. Even nicer than me.”
“Like that’s difficult.”
Dara kicked lazily at his shins. “Watch it.”
Noam just stepped back and laughed. “I should go.”
“Don't do something stupid.”
“Never.” Noam grinned at him before running out the door. “Bye, Dara. Oh, sorry, ma’am.”
“No worries, honey,” Priya said cheerfully as her eyes followed Noam like he was her next kill. She exchanged a hard look with Claire who waited a couple of seconds before she started following him at a brisk space.
Dara darted forward to grab her sleeve. “No, wait! He’s safe.”
“What?” Claire snapped with enough force that Dara flinched.
“He’s safe. He’s come here before because he needed help with his dad, he won't tell anyone,” Dara whispered.
Priya gave him a hard look. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
She searched his face for a long moment before stepping away. “Fine.” Claire relaxed slightly at her words, shooting one angry look down the stairs before she retreated back in Dara’s apartment.
“Talk,” she demanded lowly. And Dara did. Spilling everything from the first time Noam came here to the books he brought today to the fact that Dara had offered to help him.
Claire and Priya stared at him tiredly. “That’s everything?”
“Yes.”
Claire gave him a warning glare. “ Everything ?”
“Yes!”
“Dara, you can't keep secrets like this!” Priya burst out.
“Secrets like what?”
“Secrets like strangers finding you and coming in and visiting.”
“He’s like eleven, he’s not a threat.”
“How do you know?”
“He-” Dara sighed through his nose. “He promised not to tell.”
Claire threw her hands up. “Oh, he promised.”
“I’m not stupid, okay. I’m good at reading people and I know he doesn't want to harm me.”
Claire seemed like she wanted to yell at him for a very long time but she just slowly pointed a finger at him. “Don't do this again.”
“I won't.”
Priya tugged on her hair. “We’re just-”
“Worried! I know.”
Claire turned to Priya. “We have to move him,” she said softly.
Dara put his hands on his hips. “He is right here and, also, no!”
“He’s seen you, he knows what you are, he’s seen us-”
“And he’s not a threat. Certainly not if you let him work for you.”
Claire huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Why would we do that?”
“Because if you do I’ll take my meds again.”
Priya perked up at the mention of meds and shot Claire a tense look. “You’ll take prozac?”
“Yes.”
“Claire!”
“That’s child labor, it’s immoral,” Claire hissed.
“We’ve already kidnapped a kid.”
“That’s different.”
“Like this we’re keeping a child off the streets and we’re bettering the mental health of another. That’s super virtuous, right?”
Claire clenched her hands and shot Dara a suspicious look, he tried to look as innocent as possible in response. “You’ll take what the doctor prescribes and you’ll actually take them.”
“I promise,” Dara said solemnly.
Claire groaned and rubbed both hands over her face. “What’s his number?”
“I only have his address.”
She held out her hand. “Give it.” She looked it over, grimacing. “I’ll drop by sometime soon.”
“Thanks.”
“You shouldn't thank me, you should be apologizing for giving me gray hairs.” But she smiled at him as she said it so Dara figured she wasn't very mad.
Priya nudged her shoulder against his. "Want to know how we got into a fistfight with the mayors son?"
Dara grinned widely and she smiled back. Settling back on his bed to launch into a dramatic retelling.