Nathan briefly met his eyes, once, before looking away. But that one look gave him enough. 

The boy wasn’t looking at him, he was looking through him. As if he was speaking to someone else. As if he wished he could snap at someone else like he was snapping at Nathan.

Ah. A classic case. 

“You can yell at me if it’ll make you feel better.”

The boy’s eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe Nathan had just said that. As if he hadn’t realized he was doing exactly that anyway. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Don’t take it, then,” Nathan said, amused. 

“I won’t,” the boy said, voice sharp. 

Nathan hummed in response. The boy was so defensive it was almost funny. There was no reason to care so much. What did he think he was going to achieve by getting the last word?

“Aren’t you going to say something?” the boy demanded.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything else I have to say?”

“Apologize,” the boy said like Nathan hadn’t already done that like, five times.

“I’m sorry,” Nathan said easily. The boy bristled, like he was expecting something else. There was a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Nathan withheld it solely to watch the boy squirm in discomfort.

So much for intimidation.

“You better be!” the boy finally said. “You stepped out of line!”

Seriously, this kid. “I didn’t realize we were standing on one.”

The boy gaped at him, scandalized. He caught himself, frowned, and turned away, mumbling under his breath. 

Nathan supposed that meant it was the end of the argument. How tiring. Maybe he should’ve just stayed with Cantis. At least she was funny.

He turned to leave in search of the praying mantis. But as he took a step forward, the wind blew over an angry whisper, not meant for his ears.

Nathan froze in his tracks, a sick feeling developing in his stomach.

“Say that again.”

The boy looked up at Nathan.

Nathan looked him square in the eye and found himself saying, “Say that again, I dare you.”

The boy faltered. Guilt arose in his eyes. For a moment, he looked like he might even apologize. But he blinked, and in an instant, the guilt disappeared. The boy opened his mouth, the words leaving it laced with venom—

“It’s no wonder you’re so unruly.” His voice was clear and crisp, cutting through the air like a blade. 

His fists trembled by his sides. A pause. Just a second too long.

Nathan saw the gears turning in his head. Saw him wonder if he’d go too far. 

At the last moment, his face cleared of any doubt and the sneer returned to his face. 

“Your father died before he could instill discipline in you.”

An outstretched hand. A playful smile. Eyes twinkling mischievously, but full of faith. Faith in him. Faith in the world. “Come on, Nathan. I know you can do it.”

It took Nathan a moment to remember how to breathe again. His arm twitched, an uncomfortable feeling spiking through it. His gut lurched.

Nathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt the air of the garden enter his lungs, sickly sweet with the fragrance of the flowers.

Nathan had heard of blinding rage, the kind where your world turned red and you lost sight of all but your anger. But when he opened his eyes, he found he could see everything a bit clearer. Like the slight tremble in the grey-eyed boy’s lips, or the fear masked by his sneering face.

And suddenly, Nathan knew. Knew where to hit him. Knew how to make it hurt. 

“Hey.”

The boy flinched. Nathan smiled, lips twitching up humourlessly.

“That was a bit uncalled for, don’t you think?”

The boy swallowed, taking a step back. He jutted his chin out defensively. “It was also uncalled for you to uproot my garden.”

“All this over a flower?” Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Was that flower your only friend or something? Was it the only one that stayed when everyone else left you?” 

Rage simmered in the boy’s eyes. Good. 

“Poor, little you,” Nathan purred, “It must be so difficult. You kept trying to trim your little flower soldiers to perfection, but strays grew anyway. And you hated those strays, but you never wanted them to leave, did you?”

The boy’s fist clenched, jaw tight. “Don’t talk to me like that!”

“Why? Because you asked me to?” Nathan leaned forward. “Tell me, why are you so scared of not having the upper hand? Why do you always need to control every tiny little thing?”

The boy suddenly lunged at him, grabbing Nathan’s collar and dragging him down. “Not. Another. Word.”

Nathan tilted his head innocently. “Is it because you don’t have any control over your own self?”

“Shut up!” The boy yelled, “You don’t know anything about me!”

“Oh, I wish I didn’t know anything about you,” Nathan spat. “You’re not worth knowing.”

The boy’s eyes flashed dangerously. Nathan saw him raise a fist, intent clear. He closed his eyes and braced for impact.

It didn’t come.

“Young master! Young master Caleb! Please calm down!”

Nathan opened his eyes to find the fist hovering inches from his face. 

A woman desperately held the boy’s arm back. She wore maid attire— a white apron over a plain, black dress. 

The boy, or Caleb, he supposed, glared at her, wrenching his arm out of her grip. She withered under the weight of his gaze and shrank into herself.

“What do you want?” Caleb snarled.

“It’s just— your brother, he requests your presence—”

Caleb’s eyes flashed again, white-hot lightning against a grey storm. “Then he can beg. I will meet him whenever I want.”

“Touchy subject?” Nathan asked. His guess was confirmed when Caleb snapped his glare towards him. 

“Your— Your Highness?” the maid squeaked. “What are you—”

“I’m fine.” Nathan smiled at her cheerfully. “Just having a little heart-to-heart with your young master. He’s a little wild, isn’t he? Did he miss the class on basic human etiquette?”

Caleb’s grip on his collar tightened, fist pressing into his throat. “Shut up.”

“But of course you want me to shut up.” Nathan nodded like he had forgotten something important. “You have to go talk to your brother, don’t you? How rude of me, holding you up like this.”

“Shut up.”

“Sure.” Nathan’s lips twitched up without humour. “Just one question, though. This brother of yours— is that who you were daydreaming of when you were yelling at me?”

The maid shrieked as Caleb swung at him, fist hitting him hard enough that he heard a sickening crack. Nathan fell to the ground, hard, momentarily blinded by the pain shooting up his face. When his hand came away from his mouth, it was coated red.

Pain was such a weird thing. It was temporary, fleeting— A sensation that was only effective as long as it lasted. A scare tactic— one that had been used since time immemorial.

Nathan knew what it was. Nathan knew how it worked.

It didn’t last. It never lasted.

So why did it still hurt?

Why did it always hurt?

Nathan watched as Caleb stormed off inside and the maid fawned over him like he was an injured animal. His mouth tasted of copper, the sting causing his eyes to water.

He let out a bitter laugh.

Cantis was right. Mammals sucked.