The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (boyxboy)

CHAPTER 13

A/N: Been getting a lot of new attention for this story since Wattpad randomly decided to put it into Editor's Picks (tysm Wattpad), so I'm here to remind you all that I only post to engage with readers! You can leave likes on the chapters as you read them, and can also comment on each chapter. Engagement from you guys is a huge motivator for me to keep sharing my writing, and to create stuff <3

~&~

The Merry | Day 2

He refuses to come out. He can't. He'd rather die in here than go out there and face the alternative. And they leave him in there — this small, dark store room he chose yesterday morning because it's somewhat equal in distance from Captain Slade's quarters and the crew's cabins that are speckled somewhere further below.

There is a narrow window high up on the wall which is his only source of light. When it gets dark, he doesn't mind. If the door opens in the pitch black, he'll still be able to hear it.

Occasionally, the noise from the crew trickles down into his sanctuary. He strains to make out what they're saying every time. They talk, he listens. They laugh, he cringes. They shout, he jumps. But they don't come down here. He'd thought that maybe they were going to kill him yesterday; that Captain Slade was being dramatic by getting rid of Ginger first. And then, again, he'd thought they might kill him for hiding away instead of doing whatever it was Slade had been monologuing about.

Apparently not. He thinks they have forgotten about him.

He thought they had forgotten about him.

Stomach clenching with hunger, mouth dry as bone, Az jolts when the door opens. The man who enters is big though not very tall, with a dark beard that is starting to grey in places. In one hand, he holds a bucket of something heavy, and in the other is a flickering lantern. Tucked under the arm holding the lantern is a thin package of some kind, and a folded rag.

Dark eyes look down at him. Az looks right back, torn between running and staying where he is, because where else can he go?

After a few uncertain moments, the man inclines his head in what Az can scarcely believe is a greeting. "Hey there, kiddo," comes his gravelly but quiet voice. "Thought you might like to wash up and eat."

The visitor closes the door with his foot. He puts the bucket on the floor and the lantern on a waist-high pile of crates. Az watches him with a suspicious frown as he tosses the rag into the bucket then holds up that thin wrapped parcel. Thick fingers make deft work of the waxy paper. In the dim light, Az watches the man pull out two small wafers of hardtack and a sprinkling of tiny dried fish.

Az never has been a picky eater.

But he doesn't move even as the man appears to want him to reach out and take the offering.

After a tense moment, the man lets out a noise that's somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, dropping his shoulders in apparent defeat. He places the food by the lantern.

"Sorry, let's start again," the stranger says jovially. "I'm Noah. I do the cooking and doctoring around here." He pauses. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. What's your name?"

Az glances from where the food is to Noah's face and back again. The tight, stabbing discomfort in his stomach throbs. He licks his dry lips. He allows himself to actually try to read the other man's emotions. Emotions reveal intentions. And Az desperately wants to let himself relax for just a moment. Just long enough to eat the chewy crackers, at least.

Noah's nerves skitter across his skin and in his chest where something like guilt squeezes. There might be something else. Benign but bold. Az can't make it out. Not when Noah's trying to hide it.