Scribbles and Drabbles

Whumptober Day 1 part 3

"This feels wrong," Noah offered as he tried to get comfortable. "Can't I sit normally? I gave my word that I'd behave." He tried not to pout, but exhausted and aching despite the night in the motel; he didn't want to play this game. And it was a game. 

"If you think I'm letting you next to a door unsecured, you're not half as smart as most people give you credit for," Symon rubbed his hair, scratching slightly as Noah tried to set the cushion on the floor on fire with his eyes. It didn't work, and the situation didn't change. "The trunk is an option?" He offered.

Noah involuntarily but sincerely shuddered in answer to the statement. He moved into the space, folding himself to fit in the space between Symon's legs. Thorn would howl with laughter. There was barely enough room, but he squeezed in and ignored how his head banged against the wheel if he sat too far. The situation put him uncomfortable close to Symon's groin, but the man made no teases or darker suggestions. 

"Still think there are better alternatives."

"Noah, I can and will gag you," Symon warned as he shut the door and started the engine. "It's a few hours at most. Try to sleep."

"Sleep?" Noah ignored how his voice broke a high note. 

Symon didn't acknowledge Noah, instead turning on the radio and leaving Noah caged between his legs, with parts of him starting to go numb. This was unfair. Bloom might be a flexible minx, but Noah fit because he was short. The imagined laughter from Thorn continues to echo in his ears. He'd be a full-out fit by now and unable to stop. Bloom would have that grin on his face. Mind, he also would have made Symon let go of Noah. Bloom wasn't coming to save him. 

Noah let his head rest on Symon's thigh and tried to let the car rocking lull him back to sleep. There wasn't much else he could do. He wasn't tied up, though between how cramped the space was and his hand being in the mitten shackles that Symon was fond of, he couldn't do much. 

It was almost like he had a history of pulling escape artist-level ticks to escape tricky situations. Bloom needed to show him how to deal with the mitten shackles. Mind, Bloom needed to teach him how to eat fire. He promised before Water Lily appeared on the scene. Noah needed to come up with a decent enough reason. Bloom never did anything for him anymore unless he had one. Lily got too upset about it. 

His eyes watered, and he pressed further against Symon's leg. 

"Are we close yet?"

"No."

Noah grumbled, struggling to drift. Thorn had a breathing technique, but he'd rather put Noah to sleep by putting a bullet through his head than teach it to him. Noah slept a full night at the motel! He never slept a full night. How was he meant to fall asleep? From boredom?

He counted a few different mathematic sequences and then to the furthest number of pi he remembered. Not the whole book some enthusiast wrote, but a decent number for someone who hadn't studied it in a while. Then he started humming and visualising playing the piano. He should put some more practice in after all the money his parents spend on lessons. It was a useful skill. 

Lily preferred the violin. The brat was a prodigy in it because why wouldn't he be? Even the slightest skill Noah arrived at the greenhouse with had to be upstaged and removed as a factor.

The Gardener would never clip him. Even their rivals were rarely disposed of in that nature. He would forget about Noah, and that hurt. Noah's eyes stung, but he continued visualising the piano in his old bedroom. He loved it. It was sold with most of the furniture when his parents died.  

He'd removed himself from the family as much as he could without being asked hard, mocking questions. In a few more months, he could rip his roots out. Maybe then he could buy a new piano and return to a hobby that was his. Assuming Symon's plan for him didn't alter too much. Noah's chest ached at both possibilities. One where the Gardener did notice and pulled him closer into their light or one where they didn't notice at all.