synopsis: malleus finds out that rollo has joined ramshackle. he is absolutely not happy about any of it
There's a difference, you think, between bringing a housewarming gift and threatening someone.
Malleus knows this difference very, very well, which is why you know that the letter tacked outside of Rollo's window doesn't have anything good written in it.
You'd taken it away before Rollo could read it; he doesn't need to worry about this right now, not when he's already got half of the school on his ass.
"What does it say?" demands Rollo for the umpteenth time, trying to reach around you to grab at the letter.
"Nothing, go away," you respond, slapping his hands whenever they get too close. "It's not for you."
"It was outside my window," says Rollo with an exasperated huff. "It's obviously mine."
"Go preach somewhere else," you say, too distracted by reading the contents of the letter. "I'll take care of this."
Rollo huffs again but he leaves anyways, arms crossed. You'd much rather him be unhappy with you now than terrified later, which is what he's bound to be if he even gets a peek at what Malleus has written down.
In short, the dragon fae has eloquently worded a simple phrase that would've had a much less terrifying effect but a more direct message: Fuck Off.
You're not even sure how Malleus managed to climb all the way up to Rollo's window and tack the letter on without waking him up, but it's Malleus, so you don't think about it too hard.
You knew that he wouldn't take this well. You'd intended on pulling him aside to explain the situation, but he's tricky to find when he's not actively looking for you—for a guy with horns, he's surprisingly difficult to find at times. You're pretty sure that he's been avoiding you, too, even though you didn't have much say in the matter of Rollo being your new roommate.
You're glad that Lilia has so much influence over Malleus, and you also know that you owe the older fae one because he somehow got Malleus to meet up with you and Rollo without pitching a big, magical fit about it.
Rollo would look more annoyed if Malleus wasn't sitting just a foot away from him on the couch inside of Ramshackle's common room, glaring heatedly at the gray-haired boy. Instead, he just keeps his eyes on the carpet, toying with his handkerchief, and doing his best to stay neutral while you sit in front of the both of them, splayed across a chair with your arms crossed.
"So. We need to talk," you say, eyeing both boys. You're glad that Grim isn't here because he'd just anger both boys one way or another, which is the last thing you need right now.
"We do," says Malleus, and for a second you think things will be easier than they seem, but he doesn't stop there. "Rollo needs to leave, and I'm on your side about it. I'll help you with whatever you need to ensure his departure."
"That's not going to be possible," Rollo bites out, keeping his eyes trained solely on the floor. Malleus' glare is downright venomous. You sigh.
"No, Malleus, that's not what we're going to be talking about," you say, watching his eyes widen.
"Wh—prefect, you don't intend on keeping him, do you? Especially not after all he's done to us," says Malleus, sounding equal parts offended and pained. You already knew that this wouldn't be a fun conversation to have and that likely no party would come out of this satisfied, but you know that they need to hear this.
"Rollo is going to stay, Malleus. I understand that you're upset, but I'm not kicking him out," you say, watching Malleus' eyes narrow. "Before you burn my house down, let me explain."
After a second, Malleus sits back, hitting the back of the sofa and crossing his arms, giving you a suspicious look. "Go ahead," he says, not looking at all pleased.
"Okay. So, first of all, Crowley can make me become homeless whenever he wants to if I don't do exactly what he says, so I didn't really get a choice when he told me that Rollo was going to stay with Grim and I."
"Oh, so this is Crowley's fault now?" snaps Malleus before the realization sets in. "Alright, I'll take that one back."
"And I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't threaten Rollo anymore," you say, watching Malleus shrink into himself ever-so-slightly. "I'm the prefect. That means I take care of all of the residents inside of my dorm. That means, Malleus, that I don't let other people threaten them."
"Even me?" asks Malleus, like it's not an absolutely ridiculous question.
"So that letter was intended for me," says Rollo, giving you a hard look that you return.
"You're never gonna read it. And honestly, Malleus, I didn't even think that you could write some of the things you did! Honestly! What the fuck is wrong with the both of you?" you ask, and when Rollo gives you a look of disbelief at being included, "Don't forget about that whole incident with the flowers and the magic during our trip to your former school. I'm still pissed at you for that," you retort, watching Rollo shrug.
"I'm just surprised Draconia can use his brain for something other than flinging silly little spells around," mumbles Rollo from behind his raised handkerchief. Unfortunately for him, Malleus has very good hearing.
"Choose your words very, very carefully, Rollo Flamme," he says calmly, and Rollo looks like he's just remembered that Malleus is sitting right next to him. "Even a fraction of my power could render you completely useless."
"Is that what you always rely on? Is there nothing else you can use to fight with? No wonder no one ever wants to invite you anywhere—you're easy to forget once you start talking. Getting you to come to Noble Bell was too easy because you're desperate for attention, aren't you? Too bad the only way you get it is when someone tells you to leave," he snarks, and you wince. That's definitely a sore spot—it seemed to hit Malleus pretty hard, too, because something dark crosses over his face and now you know that things are bound to get ugly.
Why did he have to bring that up again? you ask yourself as Malleus' composure cracks.
The fae's hands shoot out before you can say anything, grabbing onto the collar of Rollo's uniform and yanking him nose-to-nose, seething.
"You'll be deader than your brother by the time I'm done with you," snarls Malleus.
Alright, now you need to yell at the both of them again.
"HEY!" you shout, watching both heads snap towards you. "Can we not have a civil conversation?! Rollo, that was a low blow! Malleus—also a low blow! Very low! Holy shit, it's like dealing with a bunch of first-graders here!" you yell, watching as Malleus guiltily lets go of Rollo, who slips back onto the couch wordlessly.
"Look, just—" you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I can't control the living situation, alright? But I'm not gonna have the two of you fighting, especially not in my damn house. We're done here," you say, not looking at either boy.
Rollo is the first to leave. He makes a beeline straight to his room, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. Malleus lingers for a bit longer, watching you massage your temples as you re-evaluate how badly you want to keep your house, because right now you wouldn't mind moving somewhere else if it meant not having to deal with this situation.
Soundlessly, Malleus stands, drifting over to your chair. His hand brushes over your shoulder, and you look up wearily.
"Yes, Malleus?" you say, voice soft and tired.
"I, um, I apologize for my outburst. It wasn't...that wasn't the way that I was raised. I shouldn't have said that," he murmurs, and you nod.
"You're right, but I'm not the one you need to apologize to. And, look..." you say, turning towards him. He looks nervous, as if he's not the one who could squish you like a bug should he decide to try, and you sigh again because this boy has a load of issues, too.
"I know that you're mad about everything Rollo has done. Believe me, I'm right there with you, but we need to start moving past this. I'm not asking you to he happy about it, but I can't have you guys fighting all the time, okay?"
"I can't just do that," says Malleus. "I can't ignore what he's done." You nod.
"I know. I know that he hurt you, but hurting him back won't solve anything. And I know it's unfair to ask you to forgive and forget, but threatening him is off-limits. You're better than this, Malleus," you say, placing your hand over his, which still hasn't left your shoulder.
"...I just don't want him to hurt you again, either," says Malleus, so low you can barely hear it.
You muster up a smile for his sake. He really does look worried, so maybe looking confident will make him feel a bit better. "Hey, have some faith in me, yeah? I can take him all on my own, no sweat," you say, giving his hand a pat.
Malleus takes that as his cue to leave. You watch him go, waiting until the last of the little green lights fizz out of existence before heading to the kitchen and filling up a glass with cool water, then walking upstairs and to the room Rollo has holed himself up in.
There's a good number of empty rooms that Rollo could have chosen from and he had, unsurprisingly, chosen the one furthest away from you. You hadn't commented on it. Even though everything else had been taken away, you weren't going to monitor what he did in his private time, especially since it was the only thing on a short list of other things that he had all to himself.
You knock on the door, waiting for Rollo to let you in. You hear a shuffle, then a muffled "Come in," is heard. You open the door, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.
Rollo must have been sitting on his bed because the sheets are all rumpled on one side, but he's moved to sit in a chair near the window instead, elbows on the armrests and fingers laced together as he turns his head to look at you, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at your presence.
I know your ass wasn't looking out the window before I got here, you think, repressing the urge to roll your eyes. Rollo's still trying to seem in control at a time like this, which is a normal reaction to being put somewhere where he has absolutely no power.
You pretend not to notice how dramatic he's being and hand him the glass. "Brought you water," you say, sitting on the windowsill.
"You didn't come here just to give me this, did you?" asks Rollo, acting like he's got you all figured out. You'll let him have this one, you think with a small chuckle.
"Guess not. I wanted to check up on you. The conversation we had with Malleus didn't go exactly as I'd planned," you say, not bringing up the part about Rollo's brother.
"No, I suppose it didn't," he says, looking past you and out the window. You know that he's trying to make you leave by refusing to entertain your conversation, but you know that the comment about his brother has left him shaken up, and you're not going to leave him like this.
You shift into his view, giving him a shrug as he gives you an unamused look.
"I'm not leaving until I know that you're not going to do anything dumb. And don't say you won't, because you're easier to read than you think," you say, crossing your arms loosely.
"You can stop acting like you care and be on your way," snips Rollo, pointedly looking away.
"I'm not acting, Rollo. Can you look at me, please?" you ask, and to your surprise he instantly complies, staring your dead center.
"Thank you. Just listen to me for a bit, okay? I know that we're not on the best of terms, but you're my responsibility now. That means that not only do I have to keep you from getting into trouble, but to make sure that you're doing okay. That having been said, are you doing okay?"
Rollo looks like he's debating how much he wants to tell you. A yes is what you want to hear, but you'll know that he's lying immediately. Saying no leaves him in a vulnerable position because you'll know that he needs help, and the last thing he wants is for someone to coddle him.
He decides to choose a medium between the two. "It doesn't matter. I'd rather not be another pity case for you, anyways."
"Alright, that's not—I don't pity you, Rollo. That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about?" asks Rollo, exasperated. "What are you even wasting your time here for?"
"To make sure that you're doing okay," you state simply, and you watch Rollo's face flicker through a myriad of emotions as he slowly starts to sense that there's no underlying motive to this visit.
"And you think that talking is going to make me 'be okay'?" he asks, as prickly as ever.
"I mean, it might. It wouldn't hurt to try, right?" you say. "I can't keep going knowing that you're feeling like...whatever this is. Like I said, Rollo, it's my responsibility to keep you from getting into trouble, but trouble doesn't just come in the form of a fight. This is just as important, too."
"Does it really matter that much to you?" he asks, his voice wavering the tiniest bit at the end.
"Yes," you say, and then Rollo doesn't respond. You wait for a few minutes, watching to see if he's going to try to combat your stance, but he says nothing. He just stares at you, face blank, as if he's having trouble processing what you've said—which, given his history, he probably is.
You stand. "I'm going to stay inside to finish up my work. If you want to talk, I'll be downstairs," you say, then leave. Rollo doesn't say anything, he just sits and stares at the spot where you once were.
Having Ramshackle almost all to yourself means that you have a lot of time to think because there's no one to bother you. You don't know if Rollo is feeling better or not, but you know that he's at least not going to do anything rash.
He genuinely seemed surprised when you didn't have a secret hidden agenda for your visit. It was almost like he was waiting for you to spot a chink in the armor he'd built up around himself and hammer at it until he broke, but all you'd done was be honest—and by the looks of it, he hasn't had very much of that in his life.
He clearly hadn't wanted to talk about his brother, which you couldn't blame him for. At best, it was a touchy subject, and at worst...well, you'd heard from Malleus how Idia had decided to treat the issue. He'd meant well (maybe), but he definitely could've done better at bringing it up.
Although, Rollo had just tried to kill all of them with those damn fire flowers, so a bit of crudeness was probably impossible to sidestep.
You know that the topic of Rollo's brother is going to come up one of these days, and when it does you don't want Rollo to close up again. He definitely didn't want you to know about that moment of his life, but you do, and the only thing he can do about it is ignore it—and it's eating him up.
When Rollo finally comes downstairs, it's well past dark and you've lit up the fireplace for some warmth. You only look up briefly before going back to the notes you were writing. He lingers by the stairs for a moment, watching you write in your notebook before walking over and sitting down on the couch opposite of you, putting his hands in his lap and staring into the fireplace.
You let a few minutes go by in silence before you speak up, setting your pencil down. "Do you want to talk?" you ask, watching Rollo's eyes flicker over to you briefly before he shakes his head, looking back at the fireplace.
You look into the fireplace, too. You don't know what he sees in there, but you can guess. You go back to your writing, letting the sound of your pencil on paper mix with the crackling of the wood.
"...I used to write stories, when I was younger. With my brother," murmurs Rollo, keeping his eyes fixed on the fireplace.
Your eyes shoot up to him, surprised that he'd say anything at all. You sit back in your chair, watching as Rollo draws his legs up onto the couch, looking just as awkward as ever but a little less tense.
"Really? Were they good stories?" you ask, keeping your voice soft.
"...No. They were terrible. But he loved them," whispers Rollo, and then he doesn't say anything else.
You suppose that's all you'll be getting out of him tonight. It's a start, though, which is a lot more than you were expecting out of him. He's...opening up, or at least attempting to forge a connection. You're probably the only person who's made it known that you're willing to listen to whatever he has to say, which is kind of sad, when you really think about it.
You go back to writing in your notebook.