Harmony

Most of his dreams were black. Those were preferential to orange, let alone crimson, let alone any combination of both. It didn’t happen often anymore--in the unconscious world, at least. It was miserable when it did.

Being exhausted helped minimize the risk. It was for that reason that he didn’t mind working until his hands were numb or giving all the energy he had to those with far less. It surely wasn’t healthy to burn himself out on a regular basis, and yet it served more purposes than one. Survival was a must. He had that covered. Whatever kept his dreams non-flammable was a secondary benefit.

He got unlucky tonight. It was the first time in awhile, and it came more as a flickering puddle of colors than anything. For how little he still had to go off of, it was a morbid guess from his subconscious every time. He hated it, experimental as every expression and word and action was. Juxtaposed against an imaginary background, he couldn’t control the hypotheticals. It wasn’t as though he’d been there. It wasn’t as though he’d heard them, seen them, felt one single ember sting his skin. Some days, he wished he had. On worse days, few and far between as they were, he wished he’d been part of it.

At least they weren’t screaming this time. He didn’t have to deal with their faces, although their voices were there. His name clung to their lips, and he could piece together the revised syllables in their tones. It was sweet, for how he’d never have the chance to hear it aloud. It was the only comfort deep in flames, imagined or not, and he was left to burn in another way entirely. They called for him without panic, and still he was powerless to grasp their hands. It was agonizing.

“Harper.”

He awoke to small hands on his shoulders, shaking gently. He jolted, sparing a moment to catch his breath. It was unsteady, and he hoped it didn’t show. He couldn’t help it, just barely short of gasping as his heart raced painfully. He blinked several times over, flooding his eyes with the gray of the canvas overhead rather than the scarlets still lurking behind his eyelids.

“Harper,” the little voice repeated, every bit as soft.

His eyes drifted left, and he rolled onto his side. “What’s wrong?”

She hadn’t bothered to put her glasses on, let alone her shoes. He wasn’t the only one with labored breaths, at least, although hers came more so in shuddering inhalations than anything. She was shaking. If the dried streaks of tears draping her cheeks spoke to anything, he had suspicions as to her distress. It was a reflex to swallow his pain. Flames could wait. Louise was more important, new as she was.

Harper pushed himself upright fast enough that it nearly made him dizzy, his opened arms extended to her instinctively. Fatigue was irrelevant, and he fought to forge a smile. “Come here. Are you lonely? Do you want to sleep in here? You can stay with me, it’s alright.”

She shook her head. He tilted his. Her little hands trembled at her sides, balled into fists. She cast her eyes over her shoulder exactly once, aimed squarely at the languishing flaps of canvas behind her.

“There’s someone outside,” Louise whispered, her voice trembling just as fiercely.

Harper’s eyes widened, and he rescinded his offered embrace immediately. “What do you mean?”

Even with his volume level, she didn’t dare raise her own. “There’s somebody walking around outside. I don’t know who they are.”

It was enough for him to leap to his feet almost instantly. For how often the children had teased him about sleeping almost fully dressed, it had served its purpose more times than he would’ve liked. It didn’t take long to pull himself together in full, frantic and swift as his motions were. “Stay in here,” Harper commanded, pressing his cap against his head.

“Are they gonna hurt us?” Louise murmured, fearful eyes threatened by tears once more.

He at least had time to bend to her level. He cupped her cheek gently, stroking her skin with his thumb. “Not at all. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay? No one’s gonna get hurt. I promise.”

She nodded, leaning into his touch somewhat. He hated having to rescind it. He hadn’t quite figured her out just yet, and he couldn’t gauge her trust in him at this point. Harper stroked her hair on the way out, his fingertips lingering against her wavy locks as he left her at his back.

“Please be safe,” she whispered.

Harper left her with a soft smile for company. “I’ll be okay. Wait for me here, alright? I’ll be back soon. Everything will be fine.”

She nodded. He dove past the canvas flaps, the contrast of the night air and the warmth of the tent not lost on his skin. Moonlight was better than flames, distant as it was and more gentle by comparison. The milky glow spilling onto the gravel was a decent guide, and he was thankful for at least one thing on his side in the dark.

Staying safe was easier said than done. By no means was he going to tell her that.

Isolated as they were, it wasn’t often that threats came to them directly. What few he’d encountered had been largely born of coincidence and unveiled to be benign. If they could make it through the alley, they were usually lost to begin with. If they came from the green outskirts so far behind, they were usually curious. If they wandered in from the neighboring construction site, they were usually drunk. He still hadn’t exactly wrapped his head around the fact that that situation had occurred more than once--let alone whatever circumstances had led up to it.

Every single time had been in the comfort of daylight. They’d never had an intruder at night, and it was significantly more unsettling than usual. Darkness itself was a risk. It always had been. For all of his insistence as to utter safety in the dangers of dusk, Coda was unforgiving. Harper was unarmed, and even the florist had chastised him at least once over his lack of a weapon. It didn’t quite make him powerless.

Ideally, what he did have would be enough. It usually was. It was enough last week, and the week before that, and the week before that. Still, if he were to fight in the dark--whether on behalf of himself or otherwise--he hadn’t expected to do it here. He was lying if he said he wasn’t afraid at all, for how poorly this often went in Coda proper. Given what was at stake, he’d still gladly take the fall without a second thought.

Louise was astute, from what he knew of her thus far. She hadn’t been the type to jump at every sound, nor to forget familiar faces. If she hadn’t recognized an interloper, they were genuinely out of place. Young or not, he trusted that. He moved with as much silence as was possible, both for the sake of preserving a fragile peace and maintaining whatever edge he’d probably need. Ideally, he didn’t want to fight in front of the children. He didn’t want to fight at all, really. He was still clinging to the idea that it could’ve been a true coincidence. He didn’t let his guard down, inhaling deeply and assuming the worst.

There was little to be found in the shadows of every tent, nor in the open at large. The gravel crunching underfoot was the only sound left in his wake, and Harper fought to soften his footsteps as much as he could. The moon was high enough overhead that the hour was of concern, and uncertainty was stressful.

If someone was still out here, they moved with a startling amount of stealth themselves. That would’ve been no coincidence, and the concept left him on edge. He stole what streaming moonbeams he could, chasing every darkened corner with his eyes from both near and far as his advances slowed. On at least several occasions, his gaze drifted over his shoulder cautiously.

Rustling canvas caught his attention, and his eyes snapped to the source instantly. He almost broke his neck in the process. Restraining the urge to run felt awful. The orange-tinted tent nearest the alleyway was absolutely occupied, and Harper had initially assumed its little owner was conscious. The face he expected never stirred, although he planned to speak with them in the morning--gently--regarding leaving their belongings outside again. The carelessly-languishing backpack left beyond the stakes was open, notably, very unzipped and very vulnerable to the cool air of the evening. He doubted it had started that way, particularly given the scattered items littering the gravel.

The single hand that slipped carefully between the flaps of the tent, parting the entrance in the slightest, was one Harper had never once held. The face that peered beyond the canvas and into the warmth was scathingly unfamiliar, calm and inquisitive as it was. He was different, truly out of place as asserted. His clothing spoke not to curiosity, nor disorientation, nor intoxication. He was small. He didn’t look so dissimilar to some of them, really. As such, this was suddenly a different kind of problem altogether.

Harper would’ve debated his method of approach, maybe, had it not been for the way by which a third party was involved. If there was a tiny face of interest in a flimsy home he’d sworn to protect, that took priority. Prying hands were a danger. That was enough. For how many thoughts had raced by in an instant, their safety was the one that left his blood burning.

“Stop!”

He didn’t mean to shout, given the proximity of so many small sleepers. He hoped it didn’t wake any of them. He hadn’t exactly had a choice, particularly given the way his newest stranger had inched closer to full intrusion with each passing second. Harper got their attention immediately, and wide eyes fell to his in an instant.

He didn’t have them for long. Amongst whatever he’d already sought to take, the boy stole back his gaze just as fast. He turned sharply away, skidding against the gravel as he fought for traction. It was enough of a start, and he bolted.

The curls were a solid beacon. Gravel, bare feet, and notable speed were an impressive combination, and the moonlight overhead did him favors. It wasn’t enough, and Harper’s one lament was the manner by which he had to pray his sprint left little dreams undisturbed. His pursuit was instinctive. The boy was by no means invisible in the dark. To his credit, his escape was just as silent, and he didn’t scream or struggle to intimidate. He fled. Harper wouldn’t let him.

Every hurried footstep left gravel crunching underfoot, and the traction had always been mildly uncomfortable. It was no true deterrent, nor was it enough to actively compromise his speed. Of much greater concern was the way by which the boy was fast himself. A gap he’d sought to quickly close was more steady than Harper had expected. The boy bolted left, and the shadows of the alleyway swallowed him whole. That was either a benefit or a detriment. Harper would have to find out the hard way. At the very least, the solid ground was far easier to run on than the loose stones that sought to trip him up.

Harper plunged into much the same darkness, enveloping as it was in the depths of night. By no means was it safe. There was the tiniest pang of fear that stabbed his skin the moment he’d submitted to narrow walls and winding turns. At the very least, he wasn’t alone in here--in a good way, for once.

Not for a moment had the boy left his sights, for as much as he surely intended to. His breaths were more level than anticipated, even if Harper could actively hear them from here. He didn’t bother shouting, nor demanding slowing steps. He was content to give chase beneath the starry sky, dangerous as he knew the urban landscape to be. It was better than the alternative, if the alternative left them compromised.

Of more concern was the way by which the route came naturally. It took Harper a moment to notice, and yet longer to verify. He gave him two more experimental turns for the sole sake of confirming the pattern, and was unsettlingly correct. The boy knew the way to the heart of Coda, shockingly. It was no simple path to memorize on sight, let alone one so quickly obvious on a new voyage. Harper’s stomach sank. If he’d been to the camp before, this was suddenly a much larger problem. As to what else this boy had done, the thought was enough to make his blood boil.

Still, it gave him an idea. They were roughly halfway. One look over his shoulder verified about as much. This was enough, and he doubted the children would hear him from such a distance. It had worked out fairly well. He was lucky it was dark. With mild effort, he came low to the ground, pressing harder and sprinting ever more fiercely. He was faster. That much was a given.

The boy had made for a worthy enough rival in that sense--for some time, at least. By no means was he anywhere near on Harper’s level. For his size, he got close enough. Harper’s heavy footsteps were audible, apparently, given how frantic eyes crashed into his own from afar. It was less distant every second. For every one step the boy took, Harper took double. He bore down on the boy with speed unmatched, and he bore down with a different flavor of ferocity much the same.

The added momentum didn’t feel good, probably. Even at a standstill, he was aware he had a solid right hook. He hit his mark beautifully, and it was nearly enough to send the boy hurtling to the ground. The fact that he stayed on his feet at all was admirable, stumbling and staggering in a desperate attempt to regain ample balance.

The moment he turned sharply on his heel, his bent knees speaking to yet another evasive flight, Harper struck a second blow. Identical in every way to the first, it, too, sent the boy reeling. This time, he didn’t try to run. With gritted teeth, it was all he could do to raise his fists in return. His eyes were razor-edged and venomous. It was all he had, and every last part of him was open. He swung. He missed. Harper didn’t.

It wasn’t so much that it was easy as it was straightforward. Again, to his credit, he did at least try. Not once did he stand down, nor did he try to flee a second time. He went after Harper with what little he possessed, sloppy strikes at his torso and face mostly unsuccessful. A few connected, and yet hardly did more than leave Harper wincing. Not one carried enough force to knock him back, nor shake him. It spoke to nothing of the boy's stance. Harper didn’t necessarily count, and yet his guess was no more than thirty seconds.

He almost--almost--felt bad about it, twisting his body swiftly as one foot laid waste to the boy’s side. The boy coughed, once more staggering beneath the blow. It left room to follow up, and Harper was upon him with fists to fill the void. He buried blows in the boy’s stomach, just as he blighted him with the same in the face. Harper never drew blood, although it was largely an unintentional salvation. It wasn’t as though he was holding back by much. His stranger had started it, after all. It was technically a form of self-defense. If it involved the children, he deserved every bit of it.

When he finally did fall, it came on the heels of stolen footing. It wasn’t particularly difficult for Harper to exploit his poor stance. One solid sweep of his leg beneath poorly-braced ankles sent the boy crashing to the hard ground below. He hit his head on the way down, crying out in pain. Harper thought to deal yet more damage while he had the chance, and one well-placed kick to his head would’ve surely knocked him unconscious. At the absolute least, instead, he could pin him down.

He hesitated, still well on guard with his eyes locked firmly on the boy below. Harper earned the same hostile gaze back, if not tinted with slightly more fear. It was somewhat disarming. Holding fast to his burning blood was difficult.

The boy twisted away from him, tossing together a poor attempt to scramble to his feet. He didn’t get far, and not solely secondary to the rough ground cursing his skin. The moment he was anywhere adjacent to prone, even for the briefest moment, Harper cursed him in his own way. This time, he really did pin him. He likely didn’t need to lunge, and yet did so anyway.

Harper caught one small arm in his tight grasp, twisting sharply as he jerked it high behind the boy’s back. The bent angle he claimed as he pressed down was undoubtedly painful, and the yelp of distress he earned in return was confirmation of such. He shouldn’t have felt as bad as he did. Still, his interloper was just small enough for the sound to sting him. He relaxed his grip in the slightest, and the sensation of unwinding tension beneath him eased his heart somewhat.

There was still resistance, feeble as it was in the wake of his relentless assault. The boy squirmed and writhed weakly in his grip, and Harper could’ve sworn he was outright growling. He claimed the other wrist the moment he had the chance, opting solely for strength over efficiency. He could’ve twisted. He knew how to make it hurt. At the moment, it didn’t feel right.

“Get off me!” he heard from beneath him, every word soaked in poison. “Let go!”

If he couldn’t make it hurt, then, he’d at least compensate with his voice. “Who the hell are you?” Harper demanded.

“I said let go!” he heard yet again. It came with more writhing, easily resisted.

“Answer me!” he snapped. “Who are you? What the hell were you doing back there?”

“Leave me alone!”

His voice rose with every word. The tiniest hint of desperation lay splashed upon every syllable. For the additional squirming it came with, Harper suspected fear. It was simultaneously a victory and a cause for remorse. Up close, he was young.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to be messing with other people and thinking you can just get away with it! I don’t know what you think you’re trying to pull, but it’s not happening!” Harper growled anyway.

With mild effort, the boy turned his head. One cheek, flat against the cold ground, still left wide eyes locked with Harper’s. There was, in fact, fear in there somewhere. The ire drowned it, somewhat. “You’re insane! What the hell is wrong with you? Let go of me!”

Harper leaned closer in the slightest, his grip never faltering. “You stay away from them, you hear me?”

“Get off!”

“Do you understand me?”

It came out much harsher than he’d meant it to, loud and violent. His proximity didn’t help, and the way the boy flinched was enough to make him regret his volume. Once again, it was simultaneously helpful and not. He got silence for his troubles, at least, and stillness in his grip much the same. He found only distress in place of melted venom, wide eyes glued to his as shaky breaths came to match.

“Do you understand me?” Harper repeated, far softer by comparison.

The boy nodded slowly, his curls scraping the ground with every muted motion.

Harper sighed. He relaxed his grip in the absolute slightest, never quite freeing the boy in full. “Who are you?” he asked once more.

“Doesn’t matter.”

His sharp words didn’t match his gaze, nor his immediately-faltering volume. It didn’t deter Harper entirely. “I’ve never seen you around before. Are you…new?”

“Why do you care? Who the hell do you think you are?” he spat. Only now was he back to squirming, pitiful as the effort continued to be.

Harper pushed harder against the boy’s arm, still awkwardly pinned against his back as it was. It made for a solid deterrent, and what little fight he’d put up ceased once more quickly enough. “Don’t mess with that place. You wanna screw around anywhere else, go right ahead. Not there.”

“Or what?”

He should’ve expected that, at this point. Still, it made him much more defensive than he would’ve preferred. “Or you’re going to have to deal with me.”

The boy laughed, a bitter sound splattered with disdain that betrayed his age. “Oh, I’m so scared. I bet you think you’re real hot stuff, don’t you? I’m not afraid of you. I can go wherever I--”

He made it hurt this time. He still felt bad about it. Harper shoved the boy’s arm swiftly upwards into an angle ever more uncomfortable, borderline unnatural in a way that left muscles visibly straining. This time, the cry of pain he drew was far louder and far sharper. He hoped the regret didn’t show on his face, let alone seep into his low voice. “You talk a lot. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Once more, there was fear. It ebbed and surged like waves, trading off with deceptive ire. He was starting to get used to it, let alone understand it. “You don’t even know me! Don’t act like you do! I’m not afraid of you!” the boy reiterated.

“Swear to me, right now, that you’re not gonna go back there.”

“And if I don’t?” he challenged.

His words were shaky, his breaths unstable. Every ounce of body language betrayed the boy’s false confidence. It took Harper a moment to decide whether or not he’d be going too far. He pressed downwards on the same twisted arm slightly, hardly enough to draw a wince of pain. It sufficed.

“I’ll break your arm.”

He wouldn’t. He prayed he wasn’t called on it.

To his immense relief, he wasn’t. There was no particular joy in threatening a boy this young, particularly with violence. He didn’t enjoy it, and yet it was sickeningly necessary. He still didn’t have a solid motive. Eyes pooling with terror left his bluff successful, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief long before he got formal confirmation.

“I…won’t go back. Please don’t…hurt me.”

He’d only hoped for the first part. The second part burned. It slipped out.

“How old are you?”

The boy was quiet for a moment, his uncomfortable gaze drifting to the ground. “Nine.”

Harper flinched. Maintaining at least some kind of restraint was still necessary, and yet he loosened his grip as much as was possible. As quickly as he could, he let the boy’s pinned arm unfurl into a position far more natural. The relief that washed over his face left Harper almost nauseous. This was still too much, maybe.

“If I let you go, are you gonna run?” he tried.

He’d given too much leeway. He got his venom back. “What, are you gonna chase me down? I said I won’t go near that place anymore. That’s not enough for you?”

Harper paused. “What were you doing there?”

“I’m not gonna do it again, so it doesn’t matter. Got it?”

“There’s kids there. That place is full of children. They’re younger than you.”

His face fell. The razors in his eyes were blunted immediately, and his words were stolen. Harper chose his words carefully, lest his anger be misplaced.

“They already have nothing. There’s nothing left to take from them. If you’re gonna steal from somewhere, do it anywhere but there. That’s sick,” he said bitterly.

The boy was silent for a moment. “I…didn’t know,” he murmured at last.

Harper sighed. “I know.”

The silence that settled over them left two boys in the dark of the night, buried in shadows and robbed of security. Moonlight was a poor savior. It was unsafe. It took time to dawn on Harper in general, by which discomfort prickled his skin as his eyes drifted over his shoulder. He’d lost track of how long they’d been out here, wide open as they were in the dark.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asked quietly.

The boy hesitated. “No.”

“Are you…with anyone?”

Again, he hesitated. His shrug was muffled by his awkward angle, and the ground made for a strange deterrent. “Sorta. I don’t…know where they are tonight. I’m on my own for a bit.”

Harper released the boy’s wrist with caution. When he was still, it was a relief. “Have you eaten today?”

For a third time, he hesitated. It took longer than before, and his answer was softer. “No.”

It was the most damning combination, and an instant trigger for words he couldn’t restrain.

“Come stay with me.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Harper released his other arm in turn, and the confusion he’d bestowed was its own restraint. The boy propped himself up on his elbows instead, eyeing Harper warily. He didn’t run. That was immense progress.

Every word was instinctive and uncontrollable. It didn’t make them any less true. “That place is…safe. Nothing will happen to you there. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure you always have what you need. You’ll always have something to eat, and you’ll always have somewhere to sleep, and no one will hurt you. I’ll protect you. I’ll…keep you safe.”

His offer was met with infinite befuddlement, at first. The boy simply stared up at him as he leaned back onto his heels. Then, he earned a scoff. He earned a chuckle, then a laugh, somewhere between condescending and genuinely amused.

“God, what are you, a saint? There’s no way you’re that much older than me. Get over yourself. You are weird as hell.”

Somehow, it was enough to make Harper smirk. He didn’t hate the feeling. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. It’s not safe for you to be out here right now, and especially not here.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Carefully, Harper untangled himself from the boy, rising to his feet with mild effort. “At least for tonight, stay with me. You’ll be warm. I’ll get you something to eat. If you don’t want to stay there after that, then that’s your choice.”

The boy tilted his head from below, straightening up somewhat. “What is that place to you, exactly?”

Harper smiled. “They’re my family. That place is…mine. I guard it with my life.”

The boy scoffed. “You really think you’re that good?”

Harper lowered one gentle hand to him. “For them, I will be. Whatever that takes.”

It took more than a moment for his offer to be accepted. Cautiously, a smaller hand wrapped around his own. Harper pulled swiftly, and the boy staggered as he fumbled for balance. He was quiet for a moment, his hands slipping into his pockets as the moonlight snagged on his curls.

“What’d you say your name was, again?” the boy asked.

His own hands were just as comfortable in his pockets, and his soft smile was just as natural. “Harper.”

The boy simply nodded, forgoing words altogether.

“And you are?” Harper asked in return.

There was no fear nor venom left over in his eyes. For once, he was as genuine as the stars above, the gentle glow of the moon crossing the faint smirk upon his lips.

“Domino.”