Chapter Text
Fit is up early the next morning. Like clockwork, his body always wakes at first light. Old habits die hard.
He gets up, takes care of a few chores around the house. Madagio is awake and alert as well. Even after getting her breakfast, she follows Fit around the house, always a pace behind. Like a private inspector, or a small, fluffy stalker.
Eventually, the cat grows bored and meows persistently until Fit finally lets her out in the garden, where she shoots off in the direction of the tavern and disappears. Only when Fit gets started on breakfast does the rest of the house start to wake up. Minutes after each other they emerge from their rooms.
The first thing he learns about this new, peculiar household, is that it consists of only one morning person.
Pac and Ramón both looks like they have gone through at least three active warzones in their sleep. They both huffs their respective ‘good mornings’ only to sink down in a chair each by the table. Ramón, head propped up in his hand, starts picking at his breakfast without saying much.
Pac yawns, eyeing the food Fit has placed in front of them. “Brigado.” He mumbles as he starts to chew on a piece of toast.
Fit grins and finally sinks down into a chair himself.
“Are you asleep still? Need some coffee?” He asks the man who looks pretty zoned out.
“Hey, earth to Pac?” He waves a hand in front of the man’s face when he doesn’t get a response, who grunts, giving a Fit a grumpy stare.
“Sorry. Tired.” Pac sighs.
“You don’t say.” Fit snorts, as he sets down a freshly brewed mug of coffee in front of him.
Pac might not like his coffee in the evenings, but damn, he practically inhales it in the morning. With every sip, Fit can see the light surge back into his eyes, like his soul and lifeforce returning to him.
Pac puts the mug down after his third fill and stretches before turning to Fit with an excited grin.
“So, what’s the plan today?” He asks cheerfully.
“Wow, the power of caffeine,” Fit chuckles, “Welcome back.”
Ramón looks at Pac as if he’s just been magically resurrected.
“Can I also have some of that?” He asks Fit.
“When you’re tall enough to reach the shelf.” Fit says teasingly as he puts the coffee away. Ramón pouts and returns to his milk and sandwich.
”I did not just order beer, Pierre, was it? I’m trying to run a business here! Sometimes people wants to drink something other than just fucking beer.” Fit flails his arms about, desperately trying to knock some sense into the owner of the local town's brewery. They stand down at the main road, Pierre having just unloaded several crates that Fit supposedly ordered.
”Look. On this note here it says,” Pierre holds up a scribbled note, pointing to it. ”Six crates of beer, and that is what I have right here. It’s just what you need.”
”What I need is for you to listen to me.”
”Trust me. You are all good. Next time, we will listen to your order more carefully. I promise.” There is something sneaky in Pierre’s expression. He is smiling, but Fit can tell that there is more to it. It reeks of trouble. However, before he gets the chance to act on his suspicions, Pierre’s wagon starts moving away from where it came from.
“Hey! We weren’t done here!” Fit yells.
“Yeah ! We weren’t done, you know?” Pac has somehow materialized at Fit’s side, scowling at Pierre with his fist raised in protest. The second Fit looks at him, the expression twitches, and he can tell the man is a little amused by all the drama.
“Thaaank you. Yeah, this is ridiculous!”
“Yes! Ridiculous! Um- what are we angry about?”
Fit sighs and pinches his temple.
“This guy just refuses to listen to his customers. You don’t hate beer, do you?”
“Well. No. But I do like wine more.” Pac says and turns his attention to the crates. “Hey, at least he left a few bottles for us.”
“What?” Fit frowns and turns to where Pac is looking. Like he said, there is a smaller crate with four bottles of red wine. Not enough to serve, but definitely enough for the two of them to indulge occasionally.
“Pierre’s famous red wine.” Fit reads the label out loud and flail his hand outwards. “So he does produce other things. Asshole.”
“It’s okay, Fit. I’m sure he got the order right for next time.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Or we can beat him up.” Pac says with a serious deadpan that makes Fit chuckle.
“Hm, I like it.”
Pac’s expression cracks and he turns to Fit, laughing as well.
“Maybe not, right? Bad for the business.”
“We’ll see.”
Pac lifts a crate of the ground with ease, and Fit follows suit, grabbing one for himself. Together they make quick work of carrying them all inside. Even with today’s annoyance, the frustration quickly melts away with Pac by his side, who has an innate ability to make things feel not so bad.
After that’s done, together they decide to tackle the most pressing issue first. The roof. To be honest, Fit doesn’t know the first thing about fixing roofs. His plan was to figure things out as he goes, maybe ask someone in town to help him out. But now he has Pac.
Apparently, he and his gang had stayed in all kinds of places. In especially rough times, they did not have much of a choice of where they decided to stay. So, Pac had to learn how to fix things up to a livable state pretty frequently, and often in a short amount of time.
The explanations Pac gives are sparse, told in his light-hearted, cheery ways. He doesn’t go much into details, and Fit doesn’t pry.
While they work, Ramón is nowhere to be seen.
Fit feels like he managed to connect with the kid that rainy evening, however brief. Like flicker of the child Ramón is at his core. Curious, and funny in his own way.
But ever since that night, it’s like the child rebuilt his walls. Staying in his room all day. Fit occasionally spots him in the window, looking at them, like he is a self-imposed prisoner. It’s concerning. It’s nothing like Phil’s kids, his only point of refrence really.
Tallulah did disappear at times, Phil used to talk about it. She’s a sensitive one, full of imagination and wise beyond her age. Sometimes that can get overwhelming for a little kid. Some days she shut herself away, to gather her strengths as Phil would call it. She would always come back outside eventually with her spirits restored.
But this struck Fit as different. Even as days passes by, Ramón appears to avoid interaction all together. He can’t stop thinking back to the things the kid said that night. That he keeps asking to go back to that dark, empty cellar.
“Hey, have you talked with Ramón at all since breakfast?” Fit asks Pac, who is currently halfway up the ladder he helped fix, hammer in hand and nails in his mouth. His hair is gathered up in a short ponytail today and there are smushes of dirt underneath his eyes and on his nose.
Pac raises his eyebrows at Fit’s question, puts the hammer in his armpit, and nails in his palm.
“No, I haven’t.” There is concern written on Pac’s face. It appears Fit is not the only one who has been thinking about this. He had seen Pac several times trying to talk and interact with Ramón, attempting to bring him out of his shell. But every time, Fit has seen him return, tail between his legs, like a man who has suffered a great defeat.
“Maybe you should try talking with him?” Pac suggests and Fit frowns at the idea.
“Me? If you can’t make him open up, what makes you think I can?” Pac is kind. Never without a smile on his face. The sort of person people would be naturally drawn to. Fit’s opposite in many ways.
Pac looks displeased with Fit’s answer and climbs down the ladder back to the ground.
“Ramón seems more comfortable around you. He trusts you.”
“What, you’re a psychic or something?”
“Fit.” Pac puts his hands on his hips accompanied with a stare that has Fit’s confidence quickly withering.
“What?”
“Kids need different things. Maybe you two are similar in some ways.”
“God, I hope not for the kid’s sake.”
Pac sighs, like Fit is being difficult.
“Just give it a try? See how it goes.” He insists. It seems like he will not let this go. Despite being opposites, stubborn, is a title they can both share. Fit huffs, arms crossed across his chest.
“Fine.”
“Great!” Pac smiles. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Ramón has travelled to another world.
That’s what it feels like anyway. Like he is living someone else’s life and walking in someone else’s shoes. A life where days are calm and quiet. With no obvious reasons to be scared. To hide.
Ramón is used to hiding. He is usually pretty good at it too, when he isn’t too hungry. That is what ruined it all this time. His stupid, whining stomach when the last of the cellar’s old dried foods reserves ran out.
It was risky sneaking out that day. The stranger that moved in could have been cruel. Adults are unpredictable. Ramón hates unpredictable. He hates not knowing things. In the expectations, where things that are clear and understandable, he can always find safety. Squeeze himself into a corner, out of sight and out of mind.
That is how Ramón prefers things.
So, naturally, every day, Ramón expects the usual. As a child, you’re a problem needing a solution. Every time he is seen, adults start whispering amongst each other. Uncomfortable, like they don't know how to solve Ramon's presence.
Every day, Ramón expects this. But as days passes by in this new house, things do not stop being weird. The stranger that moved in, Fit, is anything but predictable.
Fit is…Fit is strange. The man never snaps at him or raises his voice at all. He sounded a little intimidating at first, but eventually Ramón learnt that is just how his voice is. He doesn’t sigh or frown anytime he spots Ramón outside his room. He just waves, or gives a quick smile, sometimes asks how he is feeling at the time, even if Ramón never knows what the right answer is.
Fit’s new employee, Pac, is somehow even worse. He keeps asking Ramón things, always smiling, offering to show him things, or just makes spontaneous conversation during the day. It’s strange, it’s wrong, and it goes against everything Ramón has ever learnt.
It all gets a little much.
He tries to avoid them both as much as he can, retreating to the room he is assigned, and closing the door behind him. He buries his nose in his books; his notes and his scribbles of things he wishes he could make.
It's sunny outside today again.
It has not rained since that night when Ramón was forced out of the cellar. He has asked a few times when he can go back there, but Fit always says he hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. Ramón starts to suspect that he doesn’t want to.
Probably because it’s almost time for Ramón to leave anyway.
Ramón’s head is wrapped up in numbers, screws and machinery when there is a knock on his door. He startles, almost dropping the pencil on the floor.
“Ramón? It’s Fit. Can I come in?” Fit asks, voice muffled from behind the door.
Ramón frowns. He doesn’t really want to talk to anyone. He just wants to focus on his work and be left alone. But still, a tiny, annoying part of him still caves to the request.
“Okay.” He replies. The door slides open seconds later and Fit enters with a careful smile on his face.
“Hey, I just wanted to bring you something to drink, since you are working hard today as well.” Fit says, holding up a tall glass of water in his right hand. Ramón nods, not sure what else to say. Fit leaves the doorframe and steps inside as Ramón clears a space on top a box for Fit to put the glass down.
They are silent for a moment, the older hovering instead of leaving like he usually does.
“How are you-uh, feeling today?”
Ramón shrugs in response.
“Fine.”
“Okay, well, that’s good then.”
There is another pause. Nerves starts to build in the pits of Ramón’s stomach. This is it. This is when he’s asked to pack up and leave. He already knew it was coming.
He never unpacked, so it’s okay.
It’s okay.
“It’s-“
“Have you ever sparred before?”
Ramón cannot hide the shock spilling onto his face. He looks up at Fit, and the man almost looks a little surprised himself, rubbing his neck with a sheepish smile.
“I found wooden swords in the shed. I just thought that might be something you’d be interested in? It’s pretty nice outside too.”
Ramón can’t help himself. There is a spark that shoots through his body, from his heart to his fingertips. Ever since he looked at Fit’s metal arm, saw all the nicks and loose pieces, he had been certain that he used to be a warrior. Which means he could teach Ramón how to fight.
He knows he should stay in his room. But , he wants to take this chance so badly. He knows he will never get it again.
“Are,” He swallows. “Are you a fighter, Fit?”
“I used to be. I’m retired from that life now though.”
“But you know how to fight?” Ramón asks, shoulders raising in excitement, body betraying him.
“I can pack a punch, yeah.”
“Can you-” Ramón’s excitement falters and he sits back down, eyes glancing off to the side.
“It’s alright, Ramón. What do you wanna ask me?” Fit offers. Ramón bites at the inside of his mouth, sinking down in his seat.
“Can you teach me?” He mumbles.
“How to fight for real?”
Ramón nods slowly. Fit chuckles and then shrugs.
“Sure, maybe. Why don’t we start with sparring then and see how it goes?”
Ramón lights up, a candle in his heart flickering with hope.
“Really?”
“One condition though,” Fit says and pauses for suspense but hurries up when he sees the genuine worry growing in Ramón’s eyes. “Can you talk with Pac about what you’re working on? He’s been trying to chat with me about stuff like that but I’m too dumb. Do you think you could humor him a bit?”
Ramón nods quickly. He could try doing that.
“We got a deal?” Fit holds out a hand. Ramón gaze flicks from Fit’s face to the hand, before finally grabbing it. Fit grins and swings their joined hands up and down.
“Pleasure doing business with you!”
“What are you looking for?” Pac asks curiously, hovering in the doorway of the shed. Fit is in the middle of tearing open boxes and moving stuff around.
“I could’ve sworn that I saw some around here- Ah-Ha!” Fit grins victoriously, pulling the two wooden items out of a sack. “Catch!” He throws one of them towards Pac, who yelps, but with almost scarily sharp reflexes, catches it in one hand.
Fit laughs. “Nice.” He says while Pac huffs a quiet ‘meus deus’, before inspecting the wooden practice weapon in hands.
“Are you going to pick up training?” He asks curiously, throwing the weapons in the air and catching it again.
“It’s not for me. It’s for Ramón.” Fit explains, dusting his hands off by rubbing them together. “I-uh, suggested we’d try sparring. For the kid to get out and move a bit.”
“Oh! I see!” Pac smiles, the expression giddy, even if he doesn’t mention it. This time he catches the second sword Fit throws it his way with ease. “Are you good with a sword, Fit?”
“I’m better with an axe or a broad sword, but I’m not too shabby with lighter weapons. In my line of work you learn to adapt to what you got.”
“Same here” Pac does a practice swing with the sword, also no stranger to this kind of thing.
“You know, maybe you should join us? Get some exercise in?”
Pac chuckles and shrugs easily.
“Do I get paid for that too?” He jokes. Fit cocks an eyebrow and Pac quickly waves his hands around, laughing. “Just kidding, just kidding! Of course, I’d love to.” He crosses his arms confidently and puts on a silly, deep voice. “Ramón’s going to become the greatest warrior on this planet earth.”
“That’s right. Super dangerous .” Fit says in his own deep voice, making Pac crack up in high-pitch laughter instead of saying something more. Fit feels small a sense of pride of being able to make him laugh that easily.
“I’m just going to finish up with the roof and I’ll join you guys.”
“Sounds good to me!”
“Are you ready, Ramón?” Fit asks the child across from him.
It’s a perfect day for an activity like this.
The sun is out, and there’s only a light breeze, nothing distracting. It’s been some time since he sparred with someone. Last time might have been with Chayanne, after the kid’s relentless asking for it. Phil had trained him well. That child was already an adept fighter even at such a young age.
It seems Ramón is not a stranger to this either. He holds his wooden weapon high. The posture is correct and there is an air of confidence to the hold on the sword.
“I’m ready.” Ramón says, chin held high.
Fit begins slow. Giving Ramón a few pointers on how to improve his stance. The kid listens closely, and nods at the instructions. Then eventually, Fit steps back, hands on his hip and looks at Ramón expectantly.
“Alright. Attack me.”
“What?” Ramón blinks a couple times like he is confused.
“Show me what you got. Don’t be scared.” Fit relaxes his sword, keeping it in a looser, flexible hold as he waits to see what Ramón would do. Ramón hesitates. He seems used to be on the defensive.
Still, he furrows his brow in concentration and makes his attempt. He takes a few steps, that gain in speed, until he raises his sword and tries a hit from the right. Without moving his feet, Fit sweeps the sword to the right and parries with not much force. Ramón huffs and stares up at him.
“Keep it going.” Fit encourages, and Ramón does, trying another strike. The same happens even on the third and fourth attempt. The attacks are all over the place, like Ramón is just trying whatever without a clear goal in mind. Now, let’s see how his defenses compare.
Fit changes the approach and starts taking swings of his own. Ramón’s fighting changes from aimless flailing to solid parries. His reflexes is where the kid truly shines. Fit tries to get a sneakier hit in, and grins widely when the boy responds with a successful parry.
“Holy smokes! Nice, kid!” Fit praises him, genuinely impressed. Ramón’s eyes widen, and his posture crumbles. Like he’s never heard someone compliment in his life. His movement changes from confident to hesitant in seconds.
Fit decides to be a bit of a menace and strikes at Ramón’s side while he is distracted. However, Ramón’s instincts kick in and his arm flails outwards to protect himself. He makes it and their sword clashes together, but he does not put his strength into it and Fit easily pushes the weapon out of his hands.
It makes a soft thud as it lands in the grass. Ramón stares at it but doesn’t make a move to pick it up.
“You always gotta be on your toes, Ramón.” Fit grins. “But that was good! You didn’t tell me you were this advanced. I wouldn’t have gone so easy on you.”
Ramón’s gaze flicks between Fit and the weapon, like he is lost. Worried. Fit’s smile slowly dwindles as he tilts his head at the child.
“Is something wrong?”
Ramón shakes his head, and finally picks his weapon back up.
A little while later, Pac shows up, having finished up his work. Fit and Ramón has just done another round of fighting, which this time also lead to Ramón almost dropping his sword at some point.
“That was better, Ramón!” Fit says, looking pleased.
“You will defeat Fit in no time. You were so close!” Pac agrees, walking up to them both. The child plops down into the grass with a light sigh. He still seems a little puzzled, but the look in his eyes is way more alert and focused than before.
“Are you taking a break, Ramón?” Pac asks him, and Ramón nods, handing the sword to him, to which Pac accepts.
“Don’t worry, I will avenge you.” Pac turns to Fit with a playful, but dangerous smile, wagging the sword around. Fit matches the look, the two sizing each other up.
“I see I got a new opponent.”
“Are you scared, Fit?”
“Terrified.” Fit intentionally lowers his voice and doesn’t miss the way it makes Pac’s eyes narrow.
Fit and Pac are laughing, still out of breath from their fight.
It’s light and unserious. Like they are having fun. Even Ramón feels the edges of his mouth tug upwards from just watching them. He wonders if sparring means something completely different to them.
“Two against one next? You need to go down, Fit.”
“Oh, is that so?” Fit grins.
Pac turns to Ramón with a wide smile. He walks over, cheerful and weird as ever. His hand raises towards Ramón’s face, and before the boy can step out of harm’s way Pac just… brushes stray hairs out of Ramón’s eyes and tucks it away behind his ears. It’s such an easy, gentle motion, like Pac has done this a hundred times before when he hasn’t. Ramón reaches up to touch his forehead, baffled.
It’s like the man himself didn’t even realize what he did, and just puts his knuckles on his hips, eyes still narrowed at Fit.
“What do you think, Ramón? Do you want to team up?” He asks.
Ramón is beyond confused by all this. Overwhelmed. Still, there is a warm feeling growing in his chest. It makes the answers for him.
“Okay.”
“Really?” Pac gaps as if delighted, then clears his throat “I mean, awesome, yes, let’s go.” He says in a calmer tone.
“Well, you’re outta luck. We only got two swords.” Fit remarks.
Pac’s grin changes into a smirk. He walks over to a bush close by and grabs a branch off the ground, weighs it in his hands with a hum.
“I found another one.”
“Wow. I mean hey-“
“You use what you have, right?”
“That’s right.”
Ramón stares at them. These two are incredibly strange. He had no idea adults could be like this . They mess around and doesn't even take training seriously. They don’t get mad when Ramón doesn’t do his best, even drops his sword in the middle of a lesson.
“Okay, Ramón, listen, here is the plan,” Pac begins detailing this ridiculous plan to defeat Fit. It’s very silly. Involves something called ‘a double flank’ and throwing the stick as a last resort distraction. Ramón doesn’t think any of these tactics would work in real life. But Pac’s enthusiastic explanation makes him not have the heart to tell him.
Some chaotic fights later and they all are seated in the grass, weapons thrown to the side.
“I didn’t learn much.” Ramón says flat-out, arms crossed over his chest. Fit laughs at that, turning his head to look at him.
“It’s the first time. How am I supposed to know what you need to practice on before I’ve even seen you fight anything?”
“I guess.”
“Besides, you gotta relax and have fun sometimes.”
They all remain in their spot in the shade for a while, Fit deciding to lay down, hands underneath his head. The forest around them is calm and peaceful, only the sound of birds chirping to accompany them.
“Pac?” Ramón says suddenly, voice is tiny. Pac turns to him with a smile.
“Yes?”
“Um,” Ramón picks at the edge of his notebook he had left to the side as they sparred. “Do you know stuff about…machines?”
“Oh! Oh! Like the newer ones? That’s powered with magic?”
Ramón’s eyes grow wide and he nods rapidly.
“It’s really cool, isn’t it? I always said this, that mechanics and magic work great together. I can’t believe it was banned for so long.”
Ramón nods again, leaning closer.
“I saw, um, a blacksmith use a mechanical arm to move all the heavy stuff for him. It was powered with a magic-charged core.”
“Yes!! It’s amazing, Ramón!”
Ramón stands and grabs another book from behind him on the porch, then opening it to a page to show Pac something. Fit watches the two chat away about things he doesn’t understand. They look really into it however.
Ramón has that bright look in his eyes again. Like the clouds dispersed to let the sun peak through. The one he recognized from that evening they first met. For once he feels like he might have been able to do something good. The right thing, or whatever. He decides to indulge in the feeling, since it usually doesn’t last long.
Leaving the two nerds to bond, he leans backwards into the grass. His eyes are heavy, and quickly he drifts off for a quick nap.
In the evening, the three of them had gone inside for the day, all seated in the living room. Pac is sitting by the table, writing something down on a piece of paper.
“What are you writing?” Fit asks him from his armchair, evening coffee in hand.
“A list,” He says, looking up from his writing briefly, “Of things we might need to get next time we’re in town. For the tavern.”
“You’ve worked only a few days and you’re already making lists.” Fit hums.
“I want to impress my boss.” Pac jokes.
“Consider it done.” He says and Pac snorts before jotting something else down on the list.
Ramón’s nodding his head slightly. He is sitting crossed legged by a candle on the floor, reading a book. His eyes look a little dazed, like he is about to fall asleep.
“Are you getting tired, Ramón?” Fit asks, and the child glances at him before yawning. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He rolls his shoulders, resisting the urge to yawn himself. He stands from the armchair and walks over to Ramón, offering him a hand up.
Ramón hesitates for a second before grabbing his hand and letting Fit help him up on his feet. Pac puts his pen down and offers the child a warm smile.
“Good night, Ramón. It was fun battling and talking with you today.”
The boy nods quietly. He rubs his arm, eyes affixed to the ground. Fit and Pac exchange a look. Or more accurately a series of looks.
Pac raises his eyebrows to which Fit frowns deeply, then Pac starts waving his hand, mouthing ‘go’. Fit tries to summon the epitome of ‘I don’t fucking know how to do this’ onto his face, but Pac shakes his head, not buying it. The traitor just hums, picks up his pen and turns his attention back to the notes.
Fit curses internally, then clears his throat, realizing Ramón is waiting.
“Alright, bud, I’ll walk you to your room. Let’s go.”
The two make their way to Ramón’s room, and instead of letting the child close the door behind him, Fit casually heads inside as well, even with the child boring his eyes into him. Again, it really is nothing special. Just boxes, a bed and a tragically pale wallpaper. Looking at Ramón standing in it now makes him feel kind of like an asshole for not trying to make it look a little more welcoming.
“Maybe we should, uh, tell Pac to add some decoration for this room to his list.” Fit glances at the kid, then continues to look around.
“Why?” Ramón deadpans.
“Well, you’re staying here right now, aren’t you?”
“Not forever.”
Fit struggles to navigate the conversation he’s now put himself in. Damn it, why couldn’t Pac have taken over? He obviously has an easier time with kids than he has. He opens and closes his mouth, then finally get his words back.
“Can’t a room look nice weather someone’s staying in it or not?” He tries. Ramón seems to actually consider this explanation. Finally, he accepts it with a shrug.
“I guess so.”
Fit sighs in relief. Ramón gives him an unimpressed stare before getting himself ready for bed.
The child crawls into bed and slips underneath the covers, laying with his head on the side of the pillow. He looks stiff as a board, his hands curled and pressed to his chest. His face is serious as he stares into the mattress.
“Are you gonna leave yet?” Ramón huffs, like a storm cloud buzzing over his head. Fit swallows a surprised chuckle at the amount of sulky bitterness a child could display.
“Yeah. Just, uh, thought I’d check if you need something else to relax?”
“I am relaxed.” Ramón insists, shoulders tense and brows deeply furrowed.
Fit smiles a little and decides to take a seat on the side of the bed.
“Sometimes I read or write something before going to bed. Helps calm my nerves.”
He picks up a book from Ramón’s collection, glancing at him to check that it’s okay. The kid just averts his gaze and lets him. It’s all books on mechanics, cogs, advanced potion-making and complicated things that doesn’t make for a relaxing read. Fit isn’t sure how a child would go about grasping all of this anyway.
“How old are you again?” Fit asks.
“Nine.” Ramón mutters.
“Huh.”
He picks up another book, and it’s about the same. In fact, all of Ramón’s books are very difficult reads.
“Jeez. Don’t you have any, I dunno, story books?”
Ramón wrinkles his nose.
“Kids books?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re an old man.” Fit teases, and Ramón exhales through his nose, and hides his mouth underneath the covers. “I’m still young and beautiful, so I enjoy a good story from time to time.”
“What is a good story?” Ramón asks skeptically.
“You know, like, one with adventure, swordfights, dragons, that sort of stuff.”
Ramón seems to contemplate this, his curious gaze, betraying his otherwise unbothered expression. He picks at loose strands on his covers and glances at Fit as if wanting to ask something.
“I know you’re too old for kids books, but,” Fit decides to take a guess. “Uh, do you want me to try and tell you a story?”
“Will it be good?”
Fit snorts and raises his hands into the air.
“I can’t promise that. You want me to try anyways?”
Ramón looks about the room, and up at the ceiling, as if having to think hard about it. Then finally he does a quick nod.
“The brave and courageous dragon, despite facing every challenge and hardship imaginable, saves the village from destruction.” Fit does a dramatic sweeping motion of his hand as he reaches the end of his improvised tale, “Finally, the dragon could return to his homeland once more. Not as an outcast, but a hero of the whole kingdom.” He smiles.
“The dragon’s father welcomes his son with a mighty roar that bounces between the cavern walls. Then, he grins, showing his rows upon rows of sharp teeth and says;” Fit glances at Ramón, considers that he should probably put on a voice of some kind. He straightens his back with a clearing of his throat.
“Oh, my beautiful baby boy, made in heaven by god himself! You’re home at last!” He says in a deep, royal-sort of voice. He cringes internally. He glances at Ramón, who he could have sworn was doing a semblance of a smile before he looked. It’s enough for Fit to keep going.
“So, what did you think?” Fit asks after the story is over. He somehow made it work, despite not knowing what he was doing. It’s a good thing he has always enjoyed stories. He took aspects of things he could remember and put it together into something short and sweet.
“It was,” Ramón looks at him, and this time the expression is something entirely new. It’s mischievous. “Kinda bad.”
“Bad?” Fit gasps, leaning fully into the drama, “I put my all into that!”
“It was unrealistic.”
“It’s supposed to be!”
Fit can tell Ramón wants to smile. His eyes shine with amusement, but it’s as if the kid doesn’t allow himself to show any more than that.
“I’ll try better next time, how’s that?”
“Hm, I’m not sure,” Ramón squints at him. Fit plays along.
“Come on, kid, I gotta prove myself. This is unacceptable.” He sighs for dramatic effect.
“Okay. Fine. For your sake, I guess.”
For a moment, Fit feels the same as when he used to when winning a battle. That tiny rush of joy. It surprises him to find it here of all places. To be honest he doesn’t believe it. He must be going crazy. Would be a long time coming to be honest.
Fit forces the surprise off his face and stands up from the bed.
“That’s a deal then.” He says, “Sleep well, Ramón.”
“Good night.” Ramón murmurs. Just as Fit is about to leave the room, he speaks up again.
“Wait,” He averts his gaze the second Fit looks back at him. Fit waits, but the child remains quiet.
“Do you want me to leave the door open?” He asks and Ramón looks surprised like he’s caught.
“Just a little.” He murmurs.
“You got it.”
When Fit steps out into the corridor, it’s suspiciously quiet. He takes a few swift strides into the living area, where Pac is still sitting by the table. His stare is firmly fixed on his list. There are a few strands of hair sitting weirdly across his forehead. Pac seems to realize and quickly adjusts it with a swipe of his hand. He then turns to Fit with an innocent smile.
“How did it go?” He asks. He sure is smiley for someone writing to-do lists. Fit’s eyes narrow, but when Pac’s expression will not budge, he sighs softly with a light shrug.
“Okay, I think. Kid looked tired so hopefully he’ll be able to get some sleep.”
“That’s good. I hope so too.”
Fit settles down on a chair on the opposite side, hands propped up in his hand as he just listens to Pac’s scribbling for a little while.
“I thought your story was nice.”
Fit tries to summon a glare at the confession he already felt coming, but fails when seeing Pac’s somewhat guilty smirk.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“It is something.” Pac says decisively, then sighs softly. “Maybe things would be different if I had someone like you around when I was Ramón’s age.” Pac’s smile melts into something fragile. Like his mind took him somewhere else entierly. He then shakes his head before meeting Fit’s eyes again. “You’re a good person, Fit. You should trust yourself more.”
There are layers to Pac’s words. Fit’s mind scrambles to unpack it.
“I’ll- uh, try.” He croaks, when he can’t figure out what to respond. Pac’s expression is only warm, which means it must have been good enough for him. He writes something else down on the paper, although Fit is pretty sure he has started writing something other than lists at this point.
“Hey, Pac?” Fit says after a while and Pac hums to show he is listening. “Thank you.”
Pac looks confused.
“For what?”
Fit is baffled by that. “What do you mean for what? Thank you for being, you know, you .”
“Me?” Pac squeaks, eyes wide.
“Yes! And for being here.” He says, words clumsy. “I appreciate you helping me.”
Pac leans onto the table, face partially hidden by his hand. His hold on his pencil turns a little jittery.
“O-Of course! I had a nice time today.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Fit meant it. Some moments these past days, he wasn’t thinking about anything. Wasn’t mulling over details, worrying over what comes next, about what could go wrong. He was just there. Whether it's laying in the shade after lighthearted sparring, working on the tavern, or making quiet conversation in the evening. It filled his mind with a sense of calm he doesn’t recognize.
And sitting here at the end of a day, no longer alone, it’s something he can get used to.
For a month, of course. Yeah. He doesn’t think this month will be all that bad after all.
It’s the next day after that evening and things are going alright. There's been no other big hiccup except for the earlier fiasco with the delivery wagon. Fit still doesn’t know what he is going to do about that. He just hopes Pierre will arrive with what he asked for next time he decides to show his face.
Ramón has started to warm up to Pac. When Fit left to take care of some things in the tavern, they were both out on the porch, going through Ramón’s collection of overly complicated books. It’s like the child finally realized that he had access to a person who knew all the extra details, the lived experience that books could not begin to cover.
Besides, Pac is… Pac . Of course it was only a matter of time until the two would bond. It’s hard to stay away from a person like that. Someone who always finds a way past your walls.
Fit whistles to himself as he cleans the kitchen counter, tapping his foot to a random tune in his head when his calm days are about change once more.
“Hello? Is anybody here?”
It’s not Pac’s nor Ramón’s voice. It’s still early. Someone must have wandered in, even despite the ‘we’re closed’ sign out front. He puts away the towel he was using, heads to the door to the tavern and steps inside.
“Hey. Sorry, we’re…” All Fit’s words withers and dies in an instant.
Maybe, you shouldn’t throw all caution to the wind. Maybe, Fit isn’t wrong to be a little suspicious. Especially when things are going well for him. There is always something .
Because he is no longer in his tavern.
He is in a place he has never seen before.
Oh, what the actual-