How to Make a Sinner Sleep

67 | saccharine; light that desires the knight

The noises in the cafeteria felt far away despite filling the surroundings with liveliness and youth. A chair scrapped against the ground as a young boy inched closer.

"Next time, can't I come with you?" Arlo clung to the corner of Kaden's vest, hesitant but imploring.

It must've taken him a long time to work up the courage to ask.

Kaden sighed, ruffling the boy's fluffy hair that had once been mangled and dry. He'd gotten more plump as well, having more flesh to his bones. The child was still on the shorter side for his age, but if they proceeded this way, perhaps he'd shoot to the sky.

He was grateful to the professors who helped care for the child, a random stray he brought and insisted upon caring for.

Due to the uniqueness of the Academy, they didn't question his abrupt actions and allowed him to do as he pleased. Even Kaden had been prepared for some questioning, an interrogation or two.

Kaden had, however, seen how curiosity gleamed and twinkled along the delicate rim of Raymond's glasses.

Perhaps Kaden himself received special treatment that excused his existence. His abnormal activities during the night; his presence that was cautioned by many.

"Kaden! Are you listening to me?" whined the boy.

Kaden sighed again with a smile. "I am."

"You're messing up my hair!"

"Look at you, learning how to complain? But this is my special privileged of having taken you in. This is payment."

"Payment... mn, that makes sense. I owe you a lot!"

"...I was joking. You owe me nothing for the choices I made." He flicked the child's smooth forehead lightly. "Understand, kid?"

Arlo rubbed his forehead, making it even redder. He pouted. "Sure!"

A passing couple with linked arms glanced over and giggled, whispering to each other, fondness in their gazes. Kaden moved his chair closer to the table. Stares, he hated but was used to. But stares that weren't of hatred and judgment—that was strange.

The chime of the lunch's end bell rang, and Kaden looked sideways. "Arlo, I need to attend my class. Believe me, I'm sorry I can't be with you. Just this once, I can skip my lesson to spend more time with you."

Kaden observed the child's face. He specified, because he really couldn't promise skipping multiple classes for the child's sake.

They'd both known what they were getting to—though Kaden had been more aware. He once again debated his decision back then, and though it had been Arlo's choice of three, had he made the right decision?

Kaden had nothing to provide a growing life, nothing to give but himself—and even that could only be given sparingly.

Children weren't simple to raise; it wasn't the beautiful world that some imagined. It was difficult, with a single action to mold their personalities, an act out of turn to influence them in a horrendous way.

Raymond and Alexander had been giving Arlo lessons in their free time, or so Kaden had been informed despite not asking.

It seemed that the pair had grown fond of the inquisitive child.

Arlo, despite being born in misery, was somebody that belonged in the light, to be loved and adored, to be raised with care. In the future, he would undoubtedly become somebody incredible.

Just as how Kaden observed Arlo, the child watched him in return. It was a skill he needed to know, the ability to know when somebody was angry, when somebody was happy. When violence was inevitable and when it could be prevented.