And He Who Shoulders It

Two curious pair of aquamarine eyes, same golden locks, one belonging to a boy with rough remainders of his boyhood left, his hair unevenly cut, done by his own hands, and only by scissors, it looked. The other were long golden tresses which tickled her waist, barely cared for, seemingly never cut nor styled.

These eyes fell upon a clerk who is guised in a retro mask, a dark cloak that hung from the top of their head, white robes on the inside, and when removed of that, casual clothing.

They look familiar. The clerk reminisced. She knew of a boy three years ago, the same golden locks, just shorter, but with the same sloppiness. 

His eyes raised to her own-- a burning conviction she had no idea how to respond to. So she feigns ignorance and indifference.

Click. Sling.

The sound of a watch that she remembered years ago. It only belonged to a single person she knew. She saw the same watch now dangling upon her eyes.

"Miss Shay." The boy muttered. 

And the cat is out of the bag. But how? The boy before her right now. That is Somen. From the hells she used to belong to. He knows this is her in disguise. That means he is dangerous, he could possibly be plotting something. No, Somen isn't a boy like that. He's being used.

"Get in." She huddled them over and hid them under the counter. She starts, "Is anyone following you?"

"Huh?" He hummed in confusion, "No." 

"Then have the taxmen come?"

"It's only been a week. They'll come back in the next month."

She clicked her tongue. It is still too dangerous. She can't take them to the base. Her eyes flickered over to the knife under the table. No. No.

Her voice cracked, "Have.. you come across a few men in black? On their breast pocket, there's something that resembles a raven picking at the Earth."

He responds with the same befuddled look.

"How do you know I am Shay?"

Sweat pools in the boy's head. 

"Uh- We heard that you moved here." He deflects, traces of lies in the midst of his sentence.

Off with their head. The voice in her head sung. Too dangerous.

With a swift motion, her hands flew to cover her ears. Damping the voice. 

"Shut up.." She seethed.

"Miss Shay? Could you take us to sir Stephen?"

Stephen? She snapped. Her hand crawled to the knife slowly.

"How do you know Stephen?"

The boy flinched again. That lack of awareness once again present. Like forgetting that he shouldn't have said Shay, nor Stephen's names.

"Bazoonga!"

****************

Loretta saw her brother's attitude shift like a sudden inflection. A moment ago, panicked and grateful for the view in sight, but now, his clothes had suddenly changed and the air that surrounded him was different. Not grateful.. Rather, wrapped in self-loathing.

"I'm so stupid..!" He blurted, then his eyes met Loretta's.

"Are.. you alright?" Loretta asked. The intensity in his eyes was almost paralyzing.

She hadn't seen it before. The sudden change of behavior when he goes back in time. Wait no.. Technically she would have? Unless this is his first regression.

He had a dress tucked tightly to his chest. It was a sleeved dress with white frills and a tight collar. 

She cautioned closer to him, "This your first time?"

"My eighth."

She blinked rapidly. Eight times?

"How is it your eighth?" She asked.

He hands the dress over to Loretta. She holds onto it tightly as if it were escaping.

He scratches the back of his head, "It's my eighth time coming back here, but in total, I should have regressed about 15 times or so. I've only come back eight times here because I had to keep getting clothes."

She's worried. But she knows her brother will be fine. 

"What do you know then?" She asks.

"Miss Shay is here. She's running a shop and seems like she uses it to recruit other people into an underground rebel base."

"Miss Shay? She was nice to us, wasn't she?" 

"Yeah." His gaze caressed the market before them. "She'll recognize us once she sees your watch. Act like you don't know her. She will think we're a threat if we recognize her."

She bit her lips, and despite harboring good intentions, is still hesitant to ask, "How do you know that?" 

"I figured it out last time." He replied absent-mindedly, "Get changed."

That crudeness in the way he talks. 

"Did something happen?" 

He averts his gaze and replies, "Not really."

Right.

*****************

Trevor shoved the last box inside the wagon and patted the dust off it.

He backed off and said, "Well.. You guys first," while inviting an arm to welcome them inside the wagon.

Somen was the first to accept it and climbed up the wagon. He helped Shay get up, his hand clutching tightly to hers. The two others boarded soon after.

The merchant declared, "Alright, we'll be off now."

And the sound of his reins cracked the air.

Somen wandered over the vigilant eyes of Trevor and the weak meandering gaze of Ren. He remembers the weight of the kick.

He sits on the railing of the wagon, a single hand to support him from falling off.

"Careful. You'll fall off." Shay says as she tries to ease him off, but he doesn't seem to recognize her presence.

It was almost as if a raging blizzard was trapped inside Somen's eyes as he asked, "Ren. Tell me your story."

"Hm?" Ren's eyes raised to Somen's. He frowned, "Entertain yourself with something else."

Somen's feet taps on the wooden boards, "Can't trust you unless you do."

"Then we're the same."

He's being so annoying. Why can't he just tell me? I can't forgive him unless he does. I swear I'll feed him to the wolv--

"I was born into a wealthy family. Wealthy as in we were able to get about anything we wanted, as long as it was reasonable." Shay interrupted, "I was happy. Too happy. Sooner rather than later, when our flow of money just disappeared, I didn't really know what to do. I thought I could revive the family wealth by investing into schemes that the people in my neighborhood preached, but I figured far too late that they were all conmen."

She crossed her arms and hung her head back, the wind roughing her face and her gaze set on the calm humid skies in the morning, "Soon enough, I found myself in debt. So much that--" she paused to recollect memories of the past. Things she wanted to go down the drain, if it were possible, "My parents were too old, they died due to-- sickness."

"I decided that my life was already ending so I went on tons of dates. I got pregnant, and to my surprise, I was so happy. She was this brilliant ball of joy. I was going to make her so happy despite us being in debt."

"But I guess you never really realize how frail a small child is. How easily they are broken. I was lucky to have been sent into that hell when I was already an adult. My baby wasn't so lucky."

"Oh-- oh no." She fixed her head and cupped her hair, "My tie fell out," then her gaze met Somen's. The look in her face implied, 'That's what you wanted, right?'

Ren scratches the back of his neck and despite feeling obligated, says, "I'm not from the backwaters like you both, I'm from Pildom. I had a normal family and they both died peacefully. I'm helping because of sir Stephen. You can call me a volunteer or something. I don't have any children, nor a partner."

A silence draws over after he tells his story. After a moment, Ren kicks Trevor in the knee to urge him.

"Ouch! Restraint! Heard of it?!"

"Start talking!"

"Fine. I'm also from Pildom, likewise Ren, I'm also a volunteer."

Then another silence falls, waiting for more.

Ren readies another kick and just before it is realized, Trevor shouts out, "Fine! I have two kids! I help here cause I get paid." He shrugged lightly, "Hard to find a job around here."

"There you have it." Ren says, "Now what about yours?"

Somen's grip tightens on the railing. With a tense look, he says, "I was born in the slums. I've got a sister and she's everything to me. Both parents alive, don't care about them."

"Why go through the trouble of asking us our stories?"

"Dunno," Somen shrugged and sat into the wagon properly. Truth was, he needed reasons to not feel so betrayed. It hurts to be thrown away without a reason. "Guess I was just bored."