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aestroviks · 7 years

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The Fool’s Tale Chapter 1

Ao3 link

Rating: Mature

Summary: A kiss on the cheeck, a promise left unfulfilled and memories he’s rather forget

When Evie, Mal and Jay get called to Auradon they need to leave their friend Carlos behind. Promising they only will be away for a few weeks Carlos patiently waits. But after a failed attempt of opening the borders, a declaration of goodness, Carlos is forgotten. Losing with each day the hope and faith his so called friends would ever return Carlos ignores the future they had promised him. Surving on his own all over again.

More than a year later Carlos gets called to Auradon along with the second batch of children who are given a second chance. But all Carlos can think of is his anger towards the poeple who played with his emotions like that, and perhaps the king should not have given him this chance.

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Marijuana is the only drug referenced, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Child Abuse

Notes: This fic is based on @bunny-lou prompt which you can find here, I let my own imagination loose on this though.

The Fool's tale is a lying one.

A fool once said he would be fine to a princess with grace, who kissed his temple and promised she would take him to paradise.

All the princess left the fool with was a broken promise to a fool's paradise.

A fool was once told by the dragon that she would be away just a couple of weeks.

All the dragon left the fool with was a fool’s errand, a job filled with sneaking loneliness.

A fool once believed a thief who told him he would be free.

All the thief left the fool with was fool's gold- just like fool’s pride.

A fool once saw a dragon, a princess, and a thief who told him words that only a fool would believe.

All the fool left them were his tired, angry eyes.

CHAPTER 1

Foolish Hope

A kiss on the cheek, a promise left unfulfilled, and memories he’d rather forget.

Carlos glanced sideways as he walked through the streets. Villains were drunk and screaming as they chugged some more alcohol. A joint was being passed around by the younger generations, suffering because of their parents’ consequences, trying to use some plant to let them forget.

He ducked his head as a beer bottle was thrown at him by a fat drunk man, watching it break on impact against the wall beside him. All he could do was stare at the pieces of glass, parts of his reflection in them.

Carlos knew he had gotten older. But he didn't know if his mind was the same age as his body anymore. Perhaps it had always been older - one of those old souls they used as compliments in Auradon.

‘A insult really,’ he said to himself as he continued his walk back to Hell Hall. His back burned from the fingernails that had been there less than half an hour ago, scratching his back and digging into his already bruised and scarred skin. He didn’t complain. It paid him well, perhaps better than even Jafar would pay his son back when said son was still here.

(You should not think about them)

Before Carlos headed home, he went to the familiar tree. Hands went into the ground near its trunk as he began his usual routine of digging until his hands felt wood. Hastily, Carlos pulled the wooden box out, opened it and put in as much money he could miss (as much money as possible before his mother would get suspicious). He counted it carefully, checking that nothing had gone missing and to assuring himself he actually had something that he owned more than his mother.

After he had recounted the money three times (he always did that to make sure his brain hadn't gone insane), he put the wooden box back into the ground, only to cover it with dirt once again. Carlos swept his hands across his pants, trying to get as much dirt as possible from under his nails, because no dirty nails would let him into his sleeping space if mother noticed. He would end up sleeping outside where it was colder now that December and snow were arriving. It was the time of the year where hypothermia was the favourite method of dying for the people who lived on the Isle of the Lost - next to getting stabbed to death of course.

Carlos dragged his feet as he started on his way ‘home’. The walk felt more and more like a funeral march with each lead-filled step he took. He was dreading the idea of his mother, dreading the hand that would be waiting for the money he earned to be given, as if his mother was some kind of charity doing good work. He barked out a laugh at the idea. His mother working for a charity? She would rather kill her own blood, Carlos knew that for sure.

In front of the house, Cruella de Vil’s treasure was blinking as much as it could in the dark. The ugly car was parked in the overgrown bushes, as if they had suddenly become a parking spot. Carlos sighed as he looked away. He opened the door, closing it when he had gone through, and began to tiptoe.

“Carlos,” a nasally voice said from the living room. Frozen, Carlos heard her walk up to the hallway. Her heels clacked on the stone floor and before he could blink, Cruella de Vil was staring at him, hair wild and up as always. She was in a worn out black and white dotted bathroom robe, a sleeping mask on top of her head, and a thick green creme that was probably made out of toad on her face. Her bony hand raised itself like it did every other night for the last few months. He pulled the money out of his jacket, handing it over while the she looked at the money with calculated eyes, counting it slowly. With a poker face, she put the money in her bathrobe before roughly grabbing him by the face. Nails painfully set themselves into his skin.

“I expect more from you next time.” She spat in his face.

He simply nodded. He was frightened of her, but nowadays he could not bring himself to care about his feelings. The last people who cared turned on him and hurt them like anybody else on this island. Perhaps they would be proud of him now: Carlos de Vil, no putting emotions in his voice anymore.

No caring about feelings.

He still was shunned and stayed out of people's way most of the time. Some days he ended up with Harry Hook after school. “A mutual arrangement” they called it, ever since they crossed paths at Carlos so called ‘work’. He still went through the bullying, though. That had gotten only so much worse since the day his so called ‘friends’ decided to be good.

(He had celebrated it for a mere second before his feelings turned to anger and resentment. That goodness and kindness, while they may have acted like that during those moments, just wasn’t true. Carlos could tell, otherwise they would’ve gotten him out of here so long ago, but months had passed and had turned into a whole year. Longer than that even, not that he had kept track of time. He didn’t care anymore about those horrible people.)

(Yet you still care.)

Cruella pushed him down, his body colliding with the stone floor he had become so familiar with. She walked over him, the back of her heels hitting his back. All Carlos saw from his position was her feet as she walked upstairs to her bedroom, leaving him behind on the cold stone ground.

Carlos pushed himself up with the only strength he had left that night and brought himself to the tiny closet that he slept in at night. The moment his body hit the mattress, he fell asleep, his mind bringing him his routinely nightmares. His mind did not let him dream anymore. In his sleep state, all he had were the voices of false promises. Memories that once were happy turned to nightmares.

“Carlos.” Harry Hook joined him the next day in his walk. He went through the shadows so nobody would notice him as he left the school.

“Harry.” Carlos said neutrally, not sparing the other guy a glance.

Harry changed his fake hook from his right hand to his left before sliding his right arm around Carlos waist. ‘I was wondering if yer could join me later?’

A suggestive eyebrow was raised with the question.

“Why not?” Carlos answered. His mind was screaming at him to say no but he couldn’t. The corners of Harry’s mouth turned upwards. His face came closer and suddenly his lips were against Carlos ear.

“Behind Uma’s place. The usual place is booked already.” And just like that, Harry disappeared again. Carlos saw him running up to Gil and Uma down the hall.

Carlos turned right, deciding that the other exit suddenly had become much more appealing to him. It would make him walk more, but anything was better than having to pass that group unnoticed.

He made his way to Uma’s place as silently as possible. When he got close to Ursula’s Fish and Chips Carlos, he suddenly felt an arm with a hook slide around his waist. It pulled him close and a pair of lips attacked his neck, leaving bite marks. As always, Carlos let Harry set the pace.

It was partly because he did not care anymore.

Partly because it would prevent him from getting any more injuries than he already had.

Harry loved the idea of pain. It excited him to see his partner’s intense reactions to it. Oh, how he had learned and was aware of that fact. Carlos sighed, and laid his thin bony hands under the other boys chin, pulling him into a kiss on the lips as their hands undressed each other.

“I got a high grade on Selfie’s.” Harry said while putting on his clothes, just as Carlos did.

As if the awkward silence would be cured with that conversation starter.

As Carlos pulled his shirt over his head, he turned and stared at Harry. “Congrats.” He simply replied, hoping the conversation would end there.

Harry wasn’t done. “You always get high grades right?” he asked Carlos, sitting down on a old crate as he started putting on his shoes. “People always mention that when they talk about you.”

‘When they talk shit about you,’ Carlos mind kindly translated.

“I do.” Carlos didn’t see a point in lying. Everyone was aware already of the fact that he got high grades. Harry nodded. Tying his other shoe, he glanced over at Carlos. “What?”

Harry shook his head, falling silent. While Carlos appreciated the fact Harry Hook actually could shut the fuck up for two seconds, it only made him more nervous because Harry usually spoke as much as the world would let him. He always spoke dirty and a lot when he bit Carlos’s ear, roughly digging his nails into Carlos’ exposed back, biting his lip till they both could taste Carlos’ blood in their mouths. It was the way it pleased Harry.

“Fancy a drink?” Harry suddenly said when he was done with tying his shoelaces.

At first, Carlos didn’t realise Harry had really asked him that. For a second he thought about agreeing, but then he remembered Uma and the rest of her pirate crew who bombarded the place they would get drinks at. He simply shook his head and watched Harry leave.

When the red jacket turned around the corner, Carlos sighed. His muscles were sore and stomach was growling to tell him he should get food. He felt bad and tired, but he knew he still needed to study and do whatever tasks his mother would give him that day.

He started the walk home, the first snowflakes beginning to fall on his exposed shoulders. They were strangely cooling on the biting marks, bruises and everything in between. Perhaps he had just gotten used to being numb to the cold, because the only heat he sometimes got was at night against some filthy wall.

(Not that it ever was the heat that he wanted.)

Two weeks later, it happened.

Carlos had headed out of his classroom as he finished his last class of the day (He sometimes wondered why on an isle full of evil, school was still a thing. It didn’t fit in with the whole master evil quota. Not that he complained - he loved school). As he walked down the hallways, he stopped when he heard his name.

‘Carlos.’

He turned at the sound of his name. He looked up at lady Tremaine, who held a ugly opened envelope in her hands.

(It was pretty. Everything that came from Auradon was pretty.)

She looked over him, eyes resting for a moment on the bruises around his neck from last night.

“Care to join us in my classroom?” The icy voice asked.

He simply nodded, nervousness settling down in his stomach as he followed after her. Upon entering the classroom, he noticed there were other students: Uma, her boys Harry and Gil, Frollo’s daughter Claudine, and Rick Ratcliffe. All looked unsettled and slightly annoyed at the fact they couldn’t be somewhere else at the moment, possibly murdering someone. Carlos dug his nails into the insides of his palms, taking a place against the wall closest to the exit, far away enough from the other villian kids.

Lady Tremaine coughed before pulling out the letter from the envelope. Even from here Carlos could see the gold logo on the back of the paper. The kings logo.

“Best, Lady Tremaine,” Said lady began to read aloud. “His Royal Majesty King Ben of Auradon and his royal counselor Miss Anna Romanov hereby request the pleasure of the following attendees’ company at the current academic year at Auradon Prep: Uma, Daughter of Ursula the Sea Witch.”

When Carlos looked at Uma, all he saw was a furious stare. The letter could turn into fire with her looking at it like that.

“Gil, Son of Gaston.” Eyes went down.

“Rick, Son of Ratcliffe.” A chuckle was heard.

“Carlos de Vil, Son of Cruella de Vil.” He felt his blood run cold.

“Claudine Frollo, Daughter of Claude Frollo.” A irritated scoff.

“Harry Hook, Son of Captain Hook.” Lady Tremaine rolled her eyes as she read aloud the last passage. “Please notify the council if you decline the request. The Limousine is ready and will depart as soon as all passengers are ready. May we greet you soon, signed his Royal Majesty King Ben.”

When the last word had been spoken, Lady Tremaine tore the letter apart faster than Carlos ever had seen her move. She threw it into the fire that was used as a heater in these cold winter months.

“Well?” Tremaine said, looking one by one at the teenagers who stood there. They were lost, not quite sure how to handle the news. “Go on then. Get out of my sight.”

One by one, they walked out of the classroom. Carlos felt numb, not knowing for sure what was happening. Was this how they had felt? Blood running cold, numbness in their heads, not sure what was going to happen next?

Regardless of how he felt, Carlos knew there wasn’t an option for him not to go. He was going regardless, for reasons he did not dare to speak aloud. He knew everyone would have their own reasons. He looked at Uma’s silhouette, which left further and further away from him.

Carlos knew she would go to take revenge on the king, for making them suffer because of their heritage.

Gil and Harry would go because where Uma went, they followed. It was pirates law, Harry had once told Carlos.

He wasn’t sure about the closed-off Claudine Frollo. She was a book he never could read.

Rick Ratcliffe wouldn’t arrive in Auradon. He loved this place too much.

And Carlos’ reason? His reason? It was to be more free than he would ever be here.

(And to take revenge on those who had hurt him)

So that was how he found himself in Jafar’s store. The old man barely spared him a glance as he continued to work, but it wasn’t until he looked over again and recognised the boy. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I need a bag.” Carlos said. His eyes glanced over the store, which looked more empty than ever. That was explainable, considering its supplier was now a goody two shoes.

Jafar glanced once again over at the boy.

“What for Cruella’s boy?” Jafar asked as he pulled out a box filled with bags.

“Joining your son, as you may have guessed.” Carlos replied as he pointed to a worn out leather bag. It would do. It was big enough for all his possessions, not that he had many.

“I don’t have a son.” Jafar answered simply, opening his hand so Carlos could drop the gold coins in. “Tell Cruella I still owe her that Silver set’s money.”

Carlos grabbed the bag and tossed it over his shoulder, hoping he could get away before his mother heard the news.

When he entered Hell Hall he felt like he was stepping into a trap. Carlos moved quickly. Everything needed to be done fast. He had to be quick before she noticed. He hastily opened the door, looking at his sleeping spot and moving over the tiny space to collect his belongings. For a moment, he stared at the blanket and pillow Evie had given him. He wanted to leave them behind, but all he did was put them in the bag, close it and walk back onto the hall. He felt his feet walk in a fast pace, and before he knew it he was running, opening the door rudely and slamming it shut.

Carlos leapt to the tree. He needed to have money. It had to have some kind of worth there. Knuckles hit wood and he only digged faster. He pulled the box out of the dirt, not even thinking about cleaning it before throwing it into the bag. He scrambled and ran into the city near the bridge. That’s where the car should be. He would be close to freedom - away from mother, away from this, but close to the others again. Carlos truly did not know how he felt about that, but it would mean being away fro-

“What do you think you are doing?!” Ice cold hands set themselves on his shoulders, and fear wormed its way into Carlos mind. Cruella pushed him back against a nearby wall where he hit his head. He knew there was blood in his hair. “I heard about the letter you mutt! You are not going, you hear me?!” He felt a slap in his face before she pulled him up by his hair.

When had he dropped to the ground? Eyes scanned the place to find the bag. It had been dropped few meters down where they were. He needed time to cut himself loose and make up momentum to get the bag. His only chance was the moment she let go of his hair.

It had felt like everything had gone into slow motion.

The moment her grip was released on his hair, he ducked and started sprinting, hand outstretched as he picked up the bag. Maybe it felt so slow because he had been aware of the fact that this was his sole chance.

He ran through the streets, pushing people out of his way, his ears tuning out their screaming and yelling. He was taking turns left, taking other turns right. His breath was uneven, but the adrenaline didn’t let him focus on anything. All it did was make him move his legs faster than he could have imagined.

Carlos heard a distant yell. He heard the engine of the car he had been forced to wash so many times. He stayed by thin alleyways, nowhere the car could catch him. Still sprinting as he made his way to the bridge, he refused to slow down as he sought his single chance of freedom.

He refused himself to slow down even when he saw the limousine. It only made him run harder. He arrived at the limousine as fast as his legs could carry him. He was breathing heavy and felt like he was going to pass out. His world was spinning as he handed his bag to a man dressed in a yellow uniform. His head felt like it was going to burst.

Carlos felt his world die for a second when he suddenly felt an arm under his armpits. A thought flashed through his mind that his mother had caught him and his chance was gone, but a smooth voice broke that nightmare. He looked, bewildered, to his side where Uma stood, bright blue braids covering her face and her captain's hat still on.

“Let’s get you in the car, useless.” She simply stated, helping him into the limousine where everybody except Rick Ratcliffe was seated. Uma sat down next to him, ignoring his face of pure confusion. “We can go. Everybody is here.” She signed to the driver.

Harry and Gil were eating all the candy the limousine had available, fighting over who got to eat what first. Claudine Frollo had her bible close to her chest, as if it would disappear into thin air if she laid it down on her legs.

“This ride better be good. My mum’s already furious I’m going.” Uma huffed, rolling her eyes as she propped her chin up in one hand, eyes absently staring out of the window.

“It’s a bunch of rich kids,” scoffed Claudine. “they probably wear pastel clothes and smell like fresh widdle daisies.”

“Still an upgrade from smelling like fucking shit.”

“Do you think they can really eat all they want?” Gil asked, gripping tightly a candy bar as Harry kept trying to yank it out of his his grasp with no success. “With this much candy, it sure looks like it.”

“If they don’t, I’m suing.”

Uma chuckled. “Like we have any rights. One complaint and we would be sent back there without a second glance spared, you fucking idiots.”

“Would the classes be different from the ones here?” Claudine asked.

Harry quickly turned to look at her like she wasn’t thinking straight, as if she just had declared he was straight or said he was a good person.

“Why would you think about that? Of course they don’t have a Selfie class, they replace that with some other useless class.”

“With Remedial goodness.” Carlos said before he thought to shut up. The other four Villian Kids looked at him like he had gone insane.

With raised eyebrows, Gil opened his mouth “How do you know that?”

Carlos remembered the last time he had seen them and actually talked to them. It was over a fucking laptop webcam and they’d all looked awfully silent. Maleficent had been sitting in the foreground as the Evil Queen had told him about the event. As they told them about what they were doing, Carlos had bitten on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Envy had spread through his body while his mind told himself it only a few more days and they would free him.

Which had never happened.

They talked about their classes and they had mentioned the goodness class, where they were taught what was good and what was evil.

(He never understood why they needed that class. While they themselves hadn’t seen the goodness in themselves, Carlos had. Now he realised what he had witnessed was foolish hope, because his so-called friends weren’t kind. They were downright cruel. No class could teach that out of someone who was born with it.)

“They mentioned it to me once.” he answered softly.

“They?”

“He means Mal and her rookies you idiot.” Uma snarled. “What do you mean mentioned? Did you keep in contact with those idiots?” she continued to inquire.

“I talked to them a few days before they fucked up the plan. Never again since then.” Carlos said coldly, emotions cut out of his voice. No one could make out his current mood from his face.

Uma simply nodded once before turning to look outside. A tiny ‘oh’ left her mouth before her eyes widened in fear.

“Stop, you idiot!” She yelled out to the driver, but the man didn’t stop. He increased the speed and the other VK’s had taken notice to what was going on. Claudine clutched her bible even closer to her chest and shut her eyes. Gil and Harry held each other, screaming, and Uma was frozen in fear. Carlos felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs, and tears came up with the thought that this was the end as he joined Gil and Harry’s scream fest.

Three seconds before they would go down Two seconds before they would fall to their death One second before he was a goner. Zero.

But nothing happened. There was no drop, no car that felt like it was falling down. Hastily, Carlos looked out the windows. All he saw was gold.

“We’re driving on gold.” he whispered out loud, the awe clear in his voice. The driver started laughing. They drove over a gold bridge that was connected to Auradon.

He wasn’t going to die.

Carlos felt relief going through him. But then it hit him that he was going to Auradon, where the others were.

These were the people who left him to die alone. All he felt from those thoughts was madness and a thin line of sadness, because he wasn’t ready to come face to face with the people who left him. These were the people he thought cared about him, who broke their promises and clearly showed their priorities laid in a future he wasn’t a part of.

The limousine pulled up on a fairytale-looking place, with everything covered in a nice layer of snow. Carlos saw from his window a young man standing in a dark thick fur coat. It reminded Carlos of his mother but unlike her, King Ben didn’t look like a king - more like a teenager who was going to be drowned in his own fur coat. It was sadly laughable.

The driver opened the portier and Uma was the first one to go. Harry was right after her, softly holding her hand the moment she was out. It surprised Carlos that she did not push him away. Carlos followed them, with Gil and Claudine behind him. Ben smiled happily at them as a greeting. He waved his gloved hand, stepping forward a second later.

Ben opened his speech with “Welcome to Auradon. We are all delighted you are attending our school.”

Carlos studied him, looking why Mal had fallen in love with him, but he didn’t see any. All he saw was a boy with the title of king.

“I am sorry its so late, but I will show you all to your dorms and give you your tour. Follow me please.” Ben said, turning around to start walking through the snow. They all followed him in a slow pace, looking around them and studying the place they would have to call their home.

There were lanterns with candles all over the place, lighting the way. All Carlos felt was uneasiness, because fire reminded him of the wrists his mother used as ashtrays. He pulled down his sleeves, as if it would help hide the burn scars on his bony wrists.

“Here are the sporting halls, over there is the tourney field and down that way are the stables. Horse Riding is still a big part of Auradon culture.” Ben continued.

“Nobody asked you.” Claudine said from behind Carlos.

Ben turned and smiled brightly at her, teeth whiter than Carlos ever had seen on a person back on the isle.

“I know,” he began. “But the first group had that question. I decided to upgrade my tour commentary so I would be more clear.”

Carlos looked down at the mention of them. His shoes had suddenly become much more interesting than the words coming out of Ben’s mouth. They walked further down the path, Ben constantly talking about things that Carlos did not catch till they stopped in front of a building with a big entryway.

The moment they were inside (Ben had politely held the door open till every single last one of them was in), his royal highness freed himself from his fur coat. A young man who was sitting down on a nearby sofa stood up and greeted Ben with a quick smile, adjusting his big horn glasses before looking over the group.

“This is Doug. He has your timetables and the classes you need to attend. He will also show you to your dorms.” Ben explained as Doug gave an awkward wave. He handed out the timetables one by one and the moment Carlos had the piece of paper in his hand he carefully studied each and everyday.

“If you want to attend club activities there is a board over there,” Ben pointed behind him. “with each and everyone of them. including the times they start and end. Everybody's schedules are made so they have time for club activities.” He continued to explain.

A loud clock rang through the room. On the big clock hanging on the wall, the hands were pointing to 11.

Ben's face visibly whitened. “I’m sorry. Doug, please show them their dorms. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Have a nice night.”

Doug nodded and Carlos looked at Ben's retreating back. Before he could help it, the words left his tongue - words he should’ve left unsaid, because bringing attention to himself made things worse.

“Ben, wait up.” Carlos said, ignoring the fact that the other VK’s rolled their eyes as they walked away, following Doug. Ben stood still, turning with a questioning gaze.

‘Pretty eyes for a pretty boy,’ Carlos thought.

“I had a question.”

“Oh sure, go ahead.”

“Does Auradon have the same currency as the Isle of the Lost?” he heard himself ask. Ben raised a eyebrow.

“I’m sorry…” Ben looked lost “I never caught your name.”

“Carlos de Vil.”

Ben eyes widened slightly but he quickly corrected himself.

“Thought the colour scheme would’ve given it away.” Carlos laughed weakly.

Ben shook his head. “No i just realised how similar you look to your mother.”

Carlos froze, feeling his throat hurt. Ben hadn’t noticed though.

“There are statues of the villains in a museum down here. Hence why I know.” Ben smiled. “But I am sorry I don’t know. How so?”

“I took the money I saved with me and I was interested in if it had worth in here.”

Ben nodded before laying his hand on Carlos’s shoulder. Who felt a bit of warmth coming of it.

“I am sorry I really don’t know. Show me tomorrow during lunch, perhaps. You could dine with me and my friends if you wanted.” Ben looked happy at the idea. “You know them for sure. Evie, Jay, and Mal, right? Do you know them well?”

Carlos felt like he just had ice water dropped over him. He felt like telling the truth, talking about the three villain kids who abandoned the people they cared about, but Carlos wasn’t a bad person. He had often been told he was a disgrace as there was no evil in him.

He shook his head.

“I was bullied by everyone and stayed in my own lane. I was more of a loner type.” He let out a soft laugh, looking at Ben. “I never really spent time with that group.”

(A simple lie)

“Oh,” Ben said. He looked apologetic. “If you don’t want to, that's understandable. We’ll do it some other time.”

“Sure,” Carlos said, feeling like he dodged a bullet.

“I am sure they wouldn’t mind though. They have become good people.”

“I’d just rather not, in general.” Carlos said, looking at the clock and feeling a wave of sleepiness hitting him. “I should go to my dorm. Goodnight.”

He turned away, ready to go look for his dorm before stopping as a realization dawned on him.

“You don’t know where your dorm is ,do you?” Ben said from behind him. He let out a laugh before walking past, nudging his head “Come on I’ll show you.”

He walked up the stairs and Carlos followed obediently, more ready than ever to see his sleeping spot. They walked through several corridors before ending up at a door at the end of a hallway.

“This is it.” Ben declared.

Carlos looked at the door for a moment, hand laid down on the handle as he softly pushed it down. As he opened the door and saw the room, he felt his breath left his body. It was a room, with a big window and an actual bed.

It was an actual bedroom.

“Carlos?” Ben laid his hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I-I am fine.” He stuttered. “Just… overwhelmed.”

He turned his head to look at Ben with an unsure expression.

“Are you sure this is mine?” He asked, needing reassurance that this was real, not a sick joke like everyone used to play on him. Confused, Ben nodded.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Carlos’ eyes widened.

“No reason.” He said that too quickly, but Ben just nodded. When he turned again, Ben let out a gasp. Quickly Carlos head snapped back to look at Ben.

“Your head, you... have blood in your hair.” Ben stammered.

Looking lost and not sure what to say or do, Carlos raised his hand to touch the back of his scalp, suddenly feeling the wetness and pain that was there. When he pulled his hand back, he saw that his fingertips were red.

“Oh.”

“You need to get that cleaned up.”

Ben moved through the room, opening a door that Carlos thought would lead to the bathroom and a moment later, Ben came back holding a box in his hands.

“First aid kit.” Ben explained when he saw Carlos look at the box as something foreign. “Lay down, its gonna take a while.”

Without a word, Carlos did what was him told. He picked the closest bed and lay down.

“Lay on your stomach, that way I can treat it easier.”

Carlos felt how Ben’s hands went over the back of his head, searching for the wound and looking for anything that may be in there.

“From the looks of it there’s nothing bad.” Ben commented, hands still going through the hair as he picked up the first layer of sterilized gauze. “The wound is minor - nothing into deep. It looks like most of the bleeding already stopped.” Ben applied pressure lightly on the wound. “Any idea how you got it?”

(Images flashed across Carlos’s mind: bony hands dragging him by his hair, a fiery laugh and a body that while it looked like there wasn’t a muscle on it still could hit with quite the force.)

“I fell while running towards the limousine.” Carlos stopped, biting on his tongue as to not let the hiss of pain slip from his lips. “Must’ve hit my head.”

“Ah,” Ben said.

A awkward silence filled the room.

“You mentioned earlier you were more of a introvert. Do you have friends on the isle of the lost?”

Carlos was glad Ben couldn’t his face right at that moment.

“No.” He answered, bitterness in his voice. “But this place would bring new beginnings wouldn’t it?”

The awkward silence hung over as Ben struggled to think of ways to kill it and Carlos continued to welcome it like an old friend he hadn’t seen in ages. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, Ben got up.

“Ah the 15 minutes are over!” Ben moved quickly, pulling away the gauze. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped.”

Feeling the shift in weight on the bed, Carlos raised his head slightly. Looking from the corners of his eye, he saw Ben get a pair of scissors and bandages.

“I need to do a butterfly cut. The wound was very minor, but let's have it heal overnight, alright? You should be fine to shower in the morning and get the dirt and blood out of your hair, but don't use shampoo, alright?” Ben said as he cut the bandages into a butterfly, sitting once again down on the edge of the bed, his fingertips finding the wound again.

“All done.” The king spoke. “You can sit up again.”

Carlos pushed himself up, looking towards the other man who merely gave an awkward smile. Unsure of what to do, he gave Carlos a little pat on his shoulder. Carlos smiled, while his muscles screamed in irritation.

“If it starts bleeding, go downstairs and use the landline. I'll write my number down and send someone to help you and check the wound tomorrow, alright?” Moving towards the desk, Ben grabbed a pen and quickly jotted something down on a piece of paper. Quickly, he moved back to Carlos side, handling him the paper. “You can call me for anything.” He reassured Carlos.

Still surprised, Carlos hesitantly accepted the note and looked from it to Ben a few times.

“...Thank you.”

“No problem.” Ben smiled, “Sleep well, Carlos.”

“You too.”

The moment the king left the room, Carlos sat, defeated, on the bed. His hands moved as he pulled off his jacket. His hands were on on the edge of his shirt as he slowly undressed himself. Clothes were dropped onto the ground without a second glance. Carefully, he shuffled his way under the sheets. As his eyes closed, nightmares returned.

#descendants #descendants 2 #carlos de vil #idk how to tag this as #rotten core #aestroviks writing

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