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bellametre · 3 days ago

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The Daylight Candle (G/t)

Guess who's finally posting her first G/t writing. 💖

It's a oneshot that's been taking up valuable real estate in my head ever since I read a certain book back in school, and I finally managed to get it down in words.

The story follows Mason, the oldest of three, who’s taken it upon himself to look out for his brothers. But his strict, no-nonsense way of doing things doesn't always sit right with them, especially Robby. When Robby fails to show up for school pickup one day, tensions boil over, and Mason is forced to confront what happens when you push someone too far.

Hope you like it. And hey, bonus points if you can guess which book it's inspired by. 👀📚

OC content | Premature themes (14+) | ~7,300 words | ANGST

The Daylight Candle

It was a blazing, white-hot day in the late afternoon, and the letters on the polished stone sign gleamed as brightly as raw flame: Broadborough Mixed-Size High School. Mason wiped a fresh line of sweat from his forehead. If the school were a bit taller, he might've had some shade, but instead it slouched, like all co-size places did, in an exhausted heap. Tiny doors, windows, and stairs fought for space with the full-sized ones, all of them wedged so tightly into the bricks it looked like the building was trying to pop them out like pimples.

He leaned back against the rusted hood of his van, squinting around the empty parking lot for what felt like the millionth time. He checked his watch and sighed. It was a fight to ignore the urge to head inside and just start searching. He could already picture how it’d go, wandering down the wrong hallways, getting stuck someplace where he’d have to crawl around on his hands and knees. It would be so stupid. Places for both Magnums and Parvums were built like mazes on purpose.

Besides, the issue here was that Robby was late. Again. He wasn’t supposed to be late anymore. Not after Mason had told him to be in front of the sign at four o’clock sharp so they could get home in time to use the water heater before it stopped working.

Behind Mason, the side door slid open, and Jake sidled up to the front. He wore the same red bomber he always did, the one that was starting to get too tight around the shoulders and ride up his wrists. He was seventeen now—still not as tall as Mason, thank God—but getting there fast.

Jake dug around in his jeans pocket and came up with a crumpled pack of Newports. He shook the last one loose. Mason glanced at it. That pack had been full this morning.

Jake grinned as he stuck it in his mouth and propped one long leg up on the van’s bumper behind him. “You think he’s buried in a book right now, finding the cure for broke-bum syndrome?”

Mason turned his gaze back to the sign, blinding as ever, and on the long, unkempt grass beneath it. “You shouldn’t smoke so much.”

Jake snapped his fingers and pointed. “You,” he said, “are absolutely right!” He pulled out his silver lighter and flicked it a few times. “And you shouldn’t be standing in front of a school dressed like you’re about to kidnap the first kid you see.”

Mason blinked and looked down at himself. He didn’t have his hard hat and high-vis on anymore, but he was still in his work clothes: double-knee pants, a dark T-shirt, and work boots. He also had aviators on, for the sun. “Now, look…”

Jake waved a hand at him. “Come on, Mutt, I’m just messing around. You’ll kidnap a teacher, not a kid.”

Mason made a grab for the back of Jake’s collar, but Jake snickered and danced out of reach. He kept flicking his lighter until, finally, he held it up between his teeth.

Mason stared at it until a puff of smoke drifted up into the sky. “I thought that thing was busted.”

Jake looked at him, then at the lighter. He shrugged. “These fingers can coax anything, I guess.”

“I didn’t see a flame.”

“That’s because it’s a stinkin’ hot day. Plus, you’re as blind as a Parv kiddie with those glasses on.”

Mason grunted and turned his attention back to the school grounds. It was the very tail end of August, one of those days when the air was so thick and warm you could taste it. Sweat beaded on his buzzed scalp. The front lawn was empty, and thunderclouds loomed in the distance, making the brown grass look even browner. It had to be at least five o’clock by now. They’d all be showering in cold water tonight.

“He’s in trouble,” Mason said suddenly. “He did something stupid. I know it.”

Jake pinched the cigarette in the V of his fingers. Then he laughed, but it sounded wrong. “Aw, I’d have heard from one of my guys if it was that serious.”

“I didn’t say it was serious. It doesn’t have to be, not in the way you think.” Mason popped a knuckle on his thumb. “A flight of stairs can be serious for him. Or a spilled coffee. Or some Mag punk having a bad day. And you know how he is, daydreaming all the time. He’s smart, but he’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“As if his head could reach the clouds,” Jake said over another smile. He took a drag, letting the smoke trickle out through his nose. “It’s like I said. He probably got caught up listening to his Walkman or something and lost track of time. If he’s in trouble, it’s nothing more than a brawl with those same kids.”

Mason flexed his fingers. He wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that Robby could use his head for more than losing himself in books and music and stuff, that he’d only pick fights he had a real chance of winning. But lately, that just wasn’t true.

Robby never talked about it, but Mason had noticed the change. Robby had been keeping to himself more. He hardly spoke, and he was always either tired or miserable or both. Even his grades, the one thing he was always good at, were starting to slip.

What was up with him?

Mason shoved off the van and started toward the sign. Jake trailed after him with a sigh. He hit the sidewalk and began to pace, boots scuffing against the concrete as he idly kicked at the weeds clawing up through the cracks.

Overhead, clouds drifted by like they had all the time in the world. Mason was just about ready to let Robby figure it out on his own—walk home, hitch a ride, whatever—when something caught his attention.

“Excuse us!”

Mason halted mid-step, his gaze instantly dropping to the ground. A call that soft could only have come from… there.

A few steps away, three teenage girls, each barely the length of his fingers, stood clustered together on the sidewalk below. They were on the painted red strip running along the edge of the pavement reserved for Parv use. Two of them were gripping the shoulders of one in the middle, who had her arm up, tiny palm waving. She had a thick, brown blowout exploding from her head and a great big grin on her face. All three girls wore school-issued skirts.

“Could you help us with something?” the one in the middle called up. Her two friends held onto her shoulders like she was a lifeline, and one of them had gone so pale it looked like she was about to pass out. Mason cringed and took a step back.

Jake, on the other hand, who had been leaning against the sign with his ankles crossed, quickly straightened. He put out his cigarette behind his back and glided over, careful not to let his sneakers scrape the ground. Stopping precisely at the edge of the red line, just shy of where the girls were standing, he dropped into a crouch.

It was an old Mag trick. With practiced ease, Jake planted his legs wide, framing the girls’ view with the snug fit of his jeans. He propped an elbow on his knee, rested his chin in his hand, and flashed a smile warm enough to rosy up all three girls’ cheeks.

“And what,” he asked, his tone slick as grease, “can I help you lovely ladies with?”

The one with the lion’s mane took a bold step forward, shrugging off the hands on her shoulders. She knuckled her hips as she looked Jake up and down.

“Do you know where The Crystal Lounge is?” she asked, her voice sticky-sweet. “I’m new around here and heard it’s the place to be.”

Mason scoffed to himself. The only crystals you’d be finding in that bar were the salt on the pretzels. And fat chance this girl was old enough to drink. Fat chance, also, that she was new around here.

But Jake just tapped a finger on his chin and purred, “Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell.”

The girl screwed up her face in a pout. “You’ve never been there?”

“Can’t say I have. They all blend together when you get around, you know?”

“Oh, totally. Used to happen to me all the time back home.” She batted her eyelashes so ferociously that Mason could see them from where he was standing. “All the time.”

She went right on talking to Jake like it was her own personal right etched in the Charter of Proportional Coexistence. She introduced herself as “Michelle, but everyone calls me Chelle,” told him about her classes, the party she was going to later that night, and about a hundred million other things.

Mason was one breath away from politely—or not—pointing her in literally any other direction when she turned and looked up, up, up at him.

“How about you, gramps?” she yelled. “You know where The Crystal Lounge is?”

Mason almost choked. Gramps? He couldn’t be more than five years older than her, tops! He scowled down, not caring how scary it must look, and crossed his arms over his chest.

She tsked and turned back to Jake, adjusting the neckline of her blouse. “Why don’t you just give me a lift, Highrise? Then I can see where I’m going.”

Mason grimaced. What was it with Parvs? Why did they do stuff like this? Jake’s hands probably stank of cigarettes and whatever he’d eaten for lunch, and it wasn’t like it was hard to tell. Sure, Jake was slim, tall, and good-looking enough, but if this girl thought that meant he was the kind of guy you could trust with your actual life, she clearly hadn’t spent enough time around Mags.

But Jake just smirked and slunk his hand toward her. He wasn’t about to offer it like a gentleman and let her perch herself daintily in his palm, nope. He was going to cinch her at the waist and lift her good and high to make sure she wasn’t the only one enjoying the view. It made Mason want to chew on rocks. But this was Jake, practically a grown man now, and this girl had started it. If this was what they both wanted, Mason wasn’t going to stop them.

But then he noticed the two other girls. They were huddled behind Michelle, clinging to each other so tightly it looked like their arms might snap. Both were as pale as bone and shaking.

Jake wasn’t reaching for them, but when the shadow of his hand eclipsed their tiny bodies, one of the girls’ knees buckled. Mason dropped his arms.

“Jake.”

He froze. Mason didn’t use that tone often, especially not with him. Jake glanced over his shoulder.

Mason gave a small nod toward the other two girls on the ground.

Jake turned, saw them, and let out a quiet sigh. Then he slowly pulled his hand back.

“You know what, sweetheart?” he said, the swagger fading from his voice. “I just remembered where it is.”

Michelle’s mouth fell open. She glared up at Mason, and the look was so vicious that he almost took a step back.

Jake kept talking. “...the road to South on Main and make a right at the Parvum bus stop, the one under the billboard. Big sparkly sign. You can’t miss it.”

Michelle shot Jake a pleading look, as if hoping he’d call the bluff, scoop her up, and take her to the bar himself. But when he didn’t, her expression stiffened. She thanked him curtly and spun around, curls bouncing. She grabbed each girl by the wrist.

As she tugged them away, Mason cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he called, trying not to sound too gruff. “Any of you seen Robby Summers today?”

To his surprise, the girl whose knees had given out earlier came to a stop, making the others pause with her. She turned but kept her gaze low, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch.

He considered kneeling but figured that might make her keel over on the spot. So instead, he pressed gently but firmly, “Again, please. Louder.”

She swallowed. This time, she lifted her head and managed to stammer, “R-Robby left at lunch, said he needed air.”

“Did he say when he’d be back?”

“No.”

Mason bit back a curse. “Alright.”

Michelle hauled the girls away, leaving Mason and Jake alone again. Jake stood and stretched his back. “Cute girls.”

“You shouldn’t treat them like that. You should be more careful.”

“Sure. You know what I should do is marry a Parv girl, like Dad did.”

“No, you’ll marry a hundred of them to make up the difference.”

“You sure are in a bad mood today.”

Mason clenched his fists. “Well, Highrise, maybe it hasn’t occurred to you, but Robby still isn’t here. And you heard what she said, he left at lunch!”

“So we go looking for him.”

“No. No.” Mason started pacing again. “If we leave, he might come back and we won’t be here. He’ll wander off all over again.”

“So, what do we do?” Jake crossed his arms and looked Mason seriously in the eye. “We’ve got no way to reach him, no friends we can call, and no leads. You want to go to the police?”

A wave of exhaustion washed over Mason, like every knot and ache from the day had finally caught up to him. He pulled off his aviators and rubbed a hand over his face.

“All I’m saying,” Jake said, “is this”—he gestured between them—“isn’t going to fix anything. If we’re going to find him, we have to stay cool. We have to…”

He trailed off. His eyes had locked on something over Mason’s shoulder.

Mason turned fast, scanning the lot. His heart gave one hard, furious kick.

There, near the far curb. Something grey. Shuffling. And very, very small.

Robby. At the edge of the parking lot.

Mason didn’t run, but he got close. He closed the distance in twenty long strides and crashed to a knee, not nicely, not softly, not gently. He rested his forearm heavily on his thigh, his jaw tight, tension rippling through him.

Robby, all four inches of him, stood stiffly, his jeans rumpled and his grey sweatshirt hood drawn low. His face was hidden beneath a curtain of dark hair. One hand was jammed into his pocket, while the other, tucked under a sleeve, clutched the strap of his backpack. His knees were locked as if bracing against a storm.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mason didn’t even try to hide the venom in his voice. He wanted to grab Robby, yank that little hood off, and force him to look him in the eye, but he held back, clenching his hand into a tight fist instead. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Robby said nothing. He just continued to stand there like a crinkled wrapper. That was the other thing—he was filthy. It was pretty normal for him to come home knocked around since he got into fights so much, but this time it looked like he’d been dragged through gravel. Mason blew a sharp breath, rustling Robby’s clothes, and the dust nearly made him sneeze.

Then Jake was at Mason’s shoulder, leaning against him. “Robby, you won’t believe what you just missed. Three Parv chicks, prettier than petals, and one of them knew your name! She was the looker of the bunch, too. You probably already know her, but what about her friends? You know, if you found out a little more, you could hook us all up, one for each of—”

“Jake,” Mason growled. “Get off me.”

The words caught in Jake’s throat as he eyed Mason, weighing how smart it’d be to challenge that order. Finally, he pushed off, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Look, Mutt, we found him. Why don’t we just drop it and go home? I’ll make supper, and we can crash on the couch and watch—”

Mason raised a hand to shut him up. Then he leaned in close to Robby. When he spoke, his voice was low. “You gonna tell me where you were?”

To his credit, Robby didn’t flinch. He did mutter something, though, a single word:

“Out.”

Mason pulled back and drummed his fingers on the ground. “Care to explain what that means?”

He was met with silence, as always. A resolute, immovable silence. He wouldn’t be getting any more. So instead, Mason curled his middle finger back against his thumb, tensing it like a coiled spring.

And flicked him in the stomach.

Robby stumbled back. Not much, but enough to send the tiniest jolt of concern through Mason. Robby never stumbled, not with the kind of hits he took in fights. This was just supposed to be a swat, like when Mason and Jake gave each other a punch in the arm. And yet, Robby had nearly lost his balance.

The worry faded, however, when Robby straightened and flipped him the bird.

Mason rose to his feet, dwarfing Robby so that he was no taller than the top of his boots. “We’re leaving,” he said down to him dryly. “Come if you want.”

Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Jake by the arm, ignoring his protests, and dragged him across the parking lot to the van. He opened the passenger door, but Jake slipped in before Mason could shove him.

Mason shut the door and circled around. When he got into the driver’s seat and closed his own door, a stillness fell over them. Outside, the sky continued to darken.

A minute passed. Then two, then five. By minute eight, Jake finally wrestled his hands out of his pockets. He reached for the door handle.

“Leave this van,” Mason said quietly, “and I'll leave you here, too.”

“He can’t get in by himself.”

“I’ll let him in when he gets here.”

“For crying out loud!” Jake snapped. “Why do you have to be such a jerk all the time? You freak out about Robby being late, and then when he does show up, you pull this? Don’t you want him home?”

Heat climbed up Mason’s neck. “I want to go home more than anything, but Robby’s gotta learn he can’t keep breaking the rules.”

“He’s fifteen, Mutt, not five. Clearly, there’s a reason he’s late. You’re supposed to talk it out with him.”

“I tried. You saw. He won’t talk to me.”

Jake scoffed. “Yeah, because you talk at him, not with him. And now your big solution is to make him walk across an entire parking lot after he probably already hiked half the city? Come on, Mutt.” His voice softened. “Just let me go get him.”

Mason squeezed the steering wheel, the stitching digging into his palms. “You stay put,” he said through gritted teeth, “or you and Robby can walk.”

Jake let out a frustrated groan, but didn’t reach for the handle again. He fiddled with the AC vent, flicking it up and down, then turned his head to look out the window. Great. Mason had lost both of them now. What a day this was turning out to be.

Mason looked out his own window and spotted Robby standing near the front tire. He opened the door and leaned down, and before Robby could get away from him, he hooked his pinkie through the straps of his backpack and lifted him up.

Robby didn’t cry out, but he squirmed, nearly landing a kick on Mason’s leg before he was brought over to the center console. Since they couldn’t afford a vehicle with Parv accommodations, they’d improvised with a bucket wedged between the front seats, lined with dish towels and outfitted with rubber bands, zip ties, and binder clips to keep Robby from rolling around.

Mason set his jaw and dropped Robby the last few inches so that he landed in a tangled heap. “Buckle up,” he grumbled as he started the van and put it into drive. Neither Jake nor Robby reached for their seatbelts, but Mason decided to swallow it. He was too tired to argue.

As they turned out of the neighbourhood onto the twenty-two, Jake uncrossed his arms and reached a hand down into the bucket. Mason didn’t look, but he knew Jake was probably trying to ruffle Robby’s hair good-naturedly with his finger. It was something he always did when he tried to get Robby out of a mood.

“How about mac and cheese tonight?” Jake said. “I could chop up the leftover hot dogs and toss them in, and we could split the one cherry Coke we’ve got left. What do you say?

Robby had nothing to say, apparently. Jake pulled his hand back. He glanced at Mason. “Mutt?”

“I don’t care, Jake.” It came out harsher than he’d meant it. He gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands and kept his eyes on the road.

The van chugged and coughed down the street. On their right, they passed a Parv neighborhood, the miniature buildings clustered together like a stronghold against the towering monoliths around them. But despite their smallness, Mason had to admit the houses had a certain charm. The yellow squares of the windows winked in the early dusk light, and the people inside were probably sitting down to have supper with their families, able to look around and make eye contact without having to turn their heads down or crane their necks up. They were eating food that didn’t have to be painstakingly shredded into tiny pieces. And no one was stuck sitting on the table itself, complaining about their food wobbling all over whenever someone bumped it.

He wondered what it was like.

“You know,” Jake said. He was also looking out the window. “I hate it when we’re like this.”

Mason chewed the inside of his cheek. What else did Jake expect? Whether he liked it or not, this tension had been their default ever since everything changed last year. Mason tried not to be too hard on them. He really did. But someone had to keep things together. Someone had to make sure Robby showed up on time, that Jake didn’t blow money on girls and cigarettes, that they all stuck to the rules. They didn’t like that, and so now, passing resentment back and forth like loose change had become their way of life.

Hadn’t it?

Everyone was quiet the rest of the way home. By the time Mason pulled up beside their saggy single-wide, the only sound was the grinding of the transmission. He shut off the van, and they all sat for a moment listening to the tick, tick, tick of the engine.

Jake got out first, not saying a word as he grabbed his backpack, slammed the door, and stalked off toward the front porch. As Mason watched the screen slap, he couldn’t help but think Jake had just proved his point.

There was a shift from the bucket, and Mason sighed, rubbing his eyes. He was so tired.

“Where did you go?” he said. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a demand. He wanted this to be over with, and where they were now, Robby knew what would happen if he didn’t answer. So, Mason waited.

Nothing.

There was a rusted-out hole in the back of the van just below the tail light. It was far enough of a drop to hurt, but not to break anything. And it was a long walk to the trailer, a slippery climb up the drainpipe, and a tight squeeze through the back window. It was a trek Robby hated, one that he always asked to skip by hitching a ride with one of them in a hand or pocket.

Mason grabbed his keys, stepped out, and shut the door behind him.

Robby would have to get himself inside.

· · ·

The power was out again.

Mason cupped his hand around the candle to keep the flame steady as he walked. He meant to pay the bill yesterday, but the water heater had picked a fight with him, and he forgot to drop off the check. That water heater. It was more reliable than the park owner on rent day, shutting off at five every evening, no matter how many times he messed with it.

Surprisingly, the cold shower wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting. Maybe it was refreshing after such a hot, muggy day, or maybe it was just the relief of finally being clean. This time, he’d treated himself to a new bottle of shower gel instead of the usual watered-down stuff. To top it off, he’d pulled on a muscle shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. In the kitchen, Jake had turned up the radio and was messing around with dinner by the soft glow of candles left over from the school’s fall gala. They were small, just a bit bigger than a fist, but they did the job.

Mason continued slowly down the narrow hallway. It was the only real hallway they had. At the end was Robby’s room, which tripled as the storage room, the breaker closet, and where they kept the recycling. Jake had offered to let Robby share a room with him or take a spot on a shelf or under the couch in the living room, but Robby refused. He claimed he liked this cramped, dingy room at the back because it had easier access to the outside. Mason figured it probably had more to do with being as far away from him and Jake as possible.

The candle’s flame flickered, casting long shadows over the worn wood paneling and the chipped blue door. It was almost too dim to see, but there, at eye level, scrawled in tiny, almost imperceptible text were two words:

KEEP OUT

A smile tugged at the corner of Mason’s mouth. He remembered Robby’s idea to write that years ago, an elaborate plan involving a fishing hook, string, and a fall that definitely would’ve killed him if he’d gone through with it. Lorraine had put a stop to it real quick, telling Robby that the only way he’d be allowed to do it was if he had help. Robby didn’t like it, but he eventually agreed to let Mason hold him up to the door under the condition that everyone would stick to the words unless absolutely necessary.

Mason couldn’t stop thinking about when things were… better. Back when they were just kids, and Robby and his mom first came into their lives. The excitement of new faces in the family had helped push aside the weight of everything else. He didn’t remember much about his own mom anymore, but Lorraine Summers had more than filled that gap. Magnums and Parvums never paired up, let alone got married, but their family was poor, so no one cared. Life was good back then. Lorraine was happy. Dad was happy.

For it to end the way it did… it felt like Mason had shrunk down to a Parv himself, crushed beneath a giant weight.

He’d lost two moms and a dad before he was even old enough to drink. Sometimes, it still hit him like a wave of boiling tar.

A burning on his left hand jolted him. He swore, nearly dropping the candle, and fumbled it into his other hand. As the sting subsided, the hallway fell quiet once more.

Mason looked down, watching the flame dance softly in his hand. That’s when he noticed how he was holding it—fingers curled, thumb resting lightly on the back. Just like he held Robby.

Robby was kind of like a candle, in a lot of ways. He could be so smart sometimes, answering questions and keeping grades that nobody else in the family could dream of. And when he was happy, well, he made everything warmer, brighter. It was like he glowed.

If only he had the sense to go with it. Sure, he could handle himself in a fight, but trouble had a way of finding him. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wandering off unprepared. Getting lost in his head. Listening to music too much. Losing track of time.

Mason thought about how Jake’s lighter didn’t show its flame in the middle of the day. That’s what Robby was like. A candle in the daylight. Smart, bright, but so out of his element that it almost seemed a waste.

Wrong place.

Wrong time.

“Robby,” Mason called, knocking on the door. He pressed his ear against it. Robby had a powerful voice for a Parv, but Mason suspected he wouldn’t be using it any time soon. “Robby?” he called again. “Supper’s almost done, and I was wondering if we could talk.”

Not so much as a scrape or a scuffle came from the other side. Mason wondered if Robby might still be in the van. It was rare, but sometimes he got mad enough to spend the night out there. Mason eased his fingers onto the door handle and gave it a wiggle. Locked. Robby had to be in his room then, because the door hadn’t been locked this morning when Jake burst through it to wake him up for school. Robby must have climbed the storage boxes and flipped the latch.

Mason sighed and leaned against the door, resting his head next to the words. He glanced down absently at the candle. A bead of wax dripped down its side.

“Look, I’m not saying it was all your fault,” he started, voice too loud for the hallway. “But, you—you can’t just take off like that. I mean, you always do this thing where you make everything harder than it has to be.”

He winced. That wasn’t what he meant to say.

“Listen, I get it. You’re upset. I get upset too. I just don’t… I don’t go quiet and curl up like a dead rat when I do.”

No response. It was possible Robby had his headphones on, but now that Mason had started, he found that it was hard to stop.

“And this isn’t about me being right. It’s about you needing to learn what’s right.” His voice sharpened, an edge he knew well. “Because the rules exist for a reason. You can’t just go doing whatever you want and expect everything to work out.”

The candle crackled. It was starting to sting again, so Mason swapped it to his other hand. He stepped back from the door, his voice now calm. Even. Cold.

“Robby, if you keep going down this hole, you aren’t gonna be able to get out. Your teachers call almost every day, telling me you’re skipping classes. And you gotta understand that when you do stuff like that, it ticks me off. You have to follow the rules so things don’t fall apart. So we don’t fall apart. I just… wish you would see that.” Mason curled his fingers and tapped them against his thigh. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Hollow, empty silence. Mason waited for a whole minute before the truth sank in. It was all a wash. He wasn’t getting through.

He could have left it then. He could have walked away and sent Jake back later with a plate of food to slide under the door. Robby could have sulked like usual, and they’d all go to bed upset and miserable but pretending they weren’t. Then they’d wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

But something gave Mason pause. He stood still there in the hallway, candle in hand. There was a small window in the wall, no more than a foot wide, letting light pour in. Outside, the sunset had smeared the sky with colour, and it was bleeding down into a golden pool on the floor of the hall. Mason glanced at his hand and noticed that, in the glow of the sunset, the candle’s flame had nearly vanished. It was so faint it was as if the candle wasn’t lit at all.

Mason spun and marched back to Robby’s room. He pounded a fist on the door. “Robby! Robby, listen. Say the word, and I’ll leave you alone. But you have to answer me.” Mason hated how stern he sounded, but something primal had taken over him. He couldn’t explain it, but his heart was suddenly beating hard.

He rapped his fist again. “Robby! I’m gonna give you five seconds. If you don’t say something…”

The seconds ticked by. One. Two. Three. Four. Feeling an ugly pit forming in his stomach, Mason gripped the handle and rammed his shoulder against the door. It burst open in a spray of splinters, the jamb breaking clear off the wall.

He stumbled inside, the candle slipping from his hand and going out as it crashed to the floor. The back window was wide open, propped up with a pencil, letting in warm, rainy wind. All around was a mess of cans, scraps of trash, and stacked cardboard boxes. Mason's eyes immediately went to the tiny makeshift tent in the corner, but it was empty—the faded moons and planets on the blanket flapping in the breeze.

He forced himself to hold still. He was just about ready to tear the whole place apart, but then his eyes landed on the spot beside the box that held their old Christmas tree, right beneath the open window.

Robby was lying completely still on the floor. He was facedown, his head pressed against the plywood, his dark hair spilled out around his head. The light from the sunset fell across his whole body.

“Robby?” Mason said, his heart beating even harder. He stumbled over, not caring about how roughly he was moving, and sank to his knees. He pinched Robby’s hood and pulled it back, but froze when he saw what lay beneath. He held there for a moment, the bit of fabric between his thumb and finger, staring. Blanking. Unbelieving.

There was a mark so large and so purple on the side of Robby’s face that it took up nearly half of it. With his hair brushed back, the shock of color was so deep that it hurt Mason just to look at it. He jerked his hand back, his heart kicking into high gear.

Had he done that? When he flicked him? He pressed a knuckle to his mouth. No, he’d flicked Robby in the stomach. Not the face. He never flicked Robby in the face. So how did that bruise…?

In an instant, Robby was on his feet. He yanked the hood back over his head, nearly tripping over himself as he staggered backward. He hit the cardboard box behind him and pressed against it, his chest heaving.

They stared at each other, Robby bracing himself, Mason with his jaw slack. Neither said anything. After a few long, hot, charged seconds, Robby released a breath and looked away. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Fell asleep.”

He pushed off and headed for the door. Mason spoke up before he got very far.

“What happened?”

Robby slowed, but didn’t stop. “Tussle with the Caraway brothers. No glass or rocks, just fists. It’ll heal.”

He picked up his pace, but Mason wasn’t done. He knew Robby wasn’t telling him something. No person that small could leave a mark like that with just a punch, even if they were the same size. Besides, the bruise wasn’t just on Robby’s face. There were traces of it blooming down his neck.

“Robby,” Mason said. “Take off your shirt.”

This time, Robby stopped walking. He spun around. “The heck are you talking about? You came to get me for supper, and I’m going! I’m sorry I fell asleep, but you don’t have to push it.”

He turned to leave again, but Mason slammed a hand down in front of him. It startled Robby so badly that he lost his footing and fell backwards with a grunt. Mason ignored this, rising to his knees and leaning over him.

“I said,” he hissed, “take… off… your… shirt.”

Robby lay back on his elbows. His hood had slipped off, but his eyes stayed hidden beneath his hair. When he finally looked up, his face was flushed, and his eyes glittered. “You think you’re so different,” he said, barely above a whisper. Mason was about to lean down when Robby’s voice rose. “You think you’re so different? That you’re some kind of saint? Yeah, Mutt, you’re so much better because you don’t twist my limbs or crush my ribs or hold me up to lighters. What a saint you are.”

He trembled as he got to his feet and shoved a finger up at Mason’s face. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, doing everything by the rules, acting like that makes you better than me. Well, I’m trying, alright? Just trying to figure things out. But all you do is talk down to me like I’m some kind of screw-up. I’m not gonna be whatever you want me to be. Get that through your big dumb head.”

When Mason didn’t respond, Robby dropped his arm, looking defeated. “So what if I don’t take my shirt off? You gonna hold me down and cut it off? Well, I’ll tell you a little secret, Mutt. There ain’t nothing beneath it to see but what you had a hand in making.” And with that, he turned around, threading his hands into his hair.

Mason gaped down at him.

What?

Was that how Robby really felt? Mason opened his mouth to ask, but couldn’t get the words out.

“How bad?” was all he could manage.

Robby shuddered. Without turning around, he reached up, gripped the back of his sweatshirt, and pulled it over his head. And then Mason saw what had been done to his brother.

Bruises.

They stained Robby’s ribs—huge, angry splotches of black and blue. It was almost impossible that he could be so hurt and still be standing, and even more that he’d been able to hide it.

Mason had never been more at a loss for words in his life. He kept running his eyes over Robby’s back, over and over, until he was starting to see black himself at the edges of his vision. In a haze, he reached his hand out. But to his horror, Robby flinched away, throwing his arms up to shield himself.

“No, Mason,” he gasped between panicked breaths. “Not you, too.”

In that moment, something deep and raw and unfamiliar churned in Mason’s gut. His hand hung like a massive claw over Robby’s head, and he felt his heart shrivel up into a dry, empty husk.

What was he doing?

“Oh, God, Robby—” Mason’s voice cracked. He pulled his arm back and pressed his fist against his forehead. “I didn’t mean to… I’m not going to…”

Robby let out a whimper of grief. Standing there with his back exposed and his shoulders bunched, he looked smaller than he ever had in his life. He’d lost weight, the knobs of his spine and shoulder blades jutting out, his pants hanging loose around his hips. There was an empty Coke can next to him, and Mason couldn’t believe how much larger it was. Robby looked like a baby bird standing next to it.

Mason’s blood was cold. If this were Jake, it would be easy. He would reach out and grip his shoulder or pat him on the back. Tell him to smarten up. But this wasn't Jake. This was a brother who was smaller than his own hand. A brother who was afraid of him. Mason’s first instinct to tighten the rules, to fix things with order, faltered. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but he knew he needed to do something.

He dared to bring his arm out again. He made sure to move slowly, his hand low to the ground. His eyes stayed locked on Robby, searching for the slightest reaction with every inch of progress.

Closer. And closer.

When his hand was just a breath away from Robby’s back, he paused. Then, with infinite care, he pressed his palm gently—so gently—against the thin expanse of skin and bone.

Robby flinched. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he snapped his head around to look at Mason’s hand, his eyes filled with horror and hope and caution and confusion.

And then he broke.

Robby released a sob as he sagged backward, his strength giving way. Mason’s hand closed into a loose, protective fist, cradling Robby before he could hit the ground.

“Come here, bud,” Mason said softly, scooping Robby up and drawing him close. The little body melted against his chest, two tiny hands gripping the neck of his shirt, and Mason had to bite down on his tongue to stop the sound in his throat from escaping.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d held him.

He readjusted his legs and leaned back against the wall. Gingerly, he rubbed his thumb over Robby’s back, marveling at how fast both their hearts were racing. Robby was saying something now, and Mason tilted his chin down so he could see him.

“I’m sorry, Mutt. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it…”

Mason carefully pulled Robby away. He flattened his hand so Robby had room to adjust himself, but still kept his fingers curled. Robby held onto his thumb. His cheeks were wet.

“Robby,” Mason said, “you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s gotta apologize.”

Robby looked away, a lock of dark hair falling into his face. “But you weren’t wrong. I was stupid. I did something you're always telling me not to—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mason cut in. “It doesn’t. You could have burned down the Mag Rep building, and I still shouldn’t have done what I did. Or said what I said. I’m sorry.”

He swallowed a bitter taste even though he hadn’t eaten in hours. “You broken anywhere?”

Robby pressed a hand to his ribs and grinned wryly. “Nah. But if I was, it’d be from the fall, not when the guy was squeezing me. You should’ve seen the size of the metal shaving I shoved under his nail. Bet his mouth is raw from licking that wound.”

Mason let out a breath. He could hardly imagine it. Even after that, Robby still had fire in him.

He reached out, gently ruffling Robby’s hair with his fingertip. “We’re gonna make this right,” he said. “I can promise you that.”

Robby looked down. “And I…” he murmured, “…I’m gonna be more careful. I can promise you that.”

Mason blinked. Then smiled as he felt a glimmer in his chest.

Who knew it would be that simple?

His stomach growled, and suddenly mac and cheese and hot dog chunks sounded like the finest thing in the world. “How about some food?”

“Do I get a ride?”

Mason smirked and curled his fingers, keeping Robby close as he pulled in his legs and got to his feet. “Well, I suppose I’m legally obligated to assist the sick and unwell, otherwise it’d be unconstitional.”

“Unconstitutional.”

Mason winked down at him. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Robby smiled, letting his arms drape over Mason’s hand. Mason made his way out of the room and down the hall, keeping his hand steady as he walked.

In the living room, Jake had laid out three mismatched plates on the folding table, one of them so small that Mason probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t known to look. Jake glanced up as Mason entered, eyes uncertain, searching. But then they landed on Robby.

Jake smiled.

It was the brightest Mason had ever seen.

__________________

And that’s it! You can also find this story on my Wattpad under the same username, in my G/t oneshots collection Nothing but Comparison. Constructive comments and feedback are always welcome.

Thanks for reading! 💕

#gt #g/t #gt community #g/t community #giant tiny #gianttiny #giant/tiny #giant #giants #tiny #tinies #size difference #gt writing #g/t writing #writing #writers on tumblr

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sofeb · 1 day ago

Text

The fairy and the giant

The cold wind violently tossed strands of my hair as my nightgown danced chaotically. My mind was screeching. There it was. Its whole sunset shadow enveloped me along with my tiny cabin as easily as if it were a mere anthill. The earth howled and cracked, sending rocks and rubble flying in all directions. And despite this, I could hear my bones rattling through enormous gusts of wind. I desperately wanted to run, fly even, though I knew my cracked wing wouldn’t save me this time. My body trembled, like a little fragile leaf. It’s huge bulging arms shifted causing the ground to shake insatiably, much to my surprise, my ass didn’t land on the ground.

I suppose I should have predicted this conundrum. The forest creatures switching erratically from their usual location, the strange but subtle tremors around the mountains near the cabin, hell, even the air felt slightly different for weeks. As if the forest itself was preparing to inhabit an enormous presence.

Huge blue orbs were glued on to me, blinking slowly, almost waiting to see if I’d react. It felt as if time slowed down as my gaze studied this … creature that was above me. Its head tilted with curiosity.

The tremors resumed stronger this time breaking my focus from the entity. I realized soon enough that it was shifting its position, as I felt the knot in my throat growing tighter by the second. Through the vibrations I stiffly noticed that it was lowering itself down closer to the ground… closer to me.

“Run.” I internally screamed. My thoughts were travelling at the speed of light, and that was the only one I could grasp.

I never expected my life to end like this. I just went yesterday to the market at the human town nearby. It took me weeks, but I finally had enough money to buy some cute plates. It´s sad really, I never got to use them.

An earthquake caused me to leave the not so stable ground for an instant. And then, its head landed on the ground. In that moment I understood that the huge gusts of wind, were its breathing. Ironically enough, they provided me with warmth I desperately needed.

As it descended with ease and speed an animal it size shouldn’t logically have. I had to use an absurd amount of focus to not faint, surely, it just wanted to study its prey. Perhaps even toy with it, though I wasn’t entirely sure if a withered fairy would even count as a snack for this… whatever it was.

“Run.” My mind kept ordering the rest of my body. It was a rather simple order.

At this level, I could finally analyze this imposing being, it was blinking slowly. My anxiety ran wildly as those huge orbs cautiously observed my every gesture with an odd tranquility. My wings fluttered for a second out of instinct, only creating more unwanted attention.

“For the love of earth, please run!”. My logic begged my shaking legs, but to no avail. I was paralyzed.

If it decided to toy with me before devouring me, I concluded that the only possible option was to find out what creature was going to end with my mediocre excuse of a life.

A fairy with a broken wing, pretending to be something she’s not.

Covered in dirt, from the mountains it emerged from. It had what I could only assume was dark hair, a beard covering a strong jaw, olive skin, a stretched out tattered … shirt? those huge eyes that wouldn’t break contact with me… as if… I was the first thing it was seeing after emerging, tree trunk like fingers that were between its chin and the ground.

…

It was a giant.

A male one.

And I was his whole center of attention.

My body was still stubbornly not moving an inch, but I felt a single teardrop falling on my cheek, as I accepted my fate. His curious expression slightly changed, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly to what.

Why wasn’t he doing anything other than looking at me?!

I was well aware that humans were naturally cruel, that’s the whole reason I shifted my size to try and blend in. But this … man was no human, his head was taller than my whole body. Hell, I bet I was even shorter than his nose. My brain couldn’t even begin to grasp how absurdly tiny I must look from his perspective, even though I wasn’t even on my regular form.

Back in my original size I had the … misfortune of encountering humans. They were huge, imposing and of course, absolutely terrifying. But this … being, his presence alone was overwhelming in a level my head couldn’t wrap itself around it. I never knew this extension of fear. My heart was pounding erratically, and I couldn’t keep the pace.

I gulped, shut my eyes and waited for anything to happen while I desperately tried to keep my head from spinning, suddenly I felt a new gust of wind to my left. And then something … leathery touched me.

Wiping my tears away…

My entire vision field was his, while his enormous finger was excruciatingly slowly lifting my chin.

Why were his eyes filled with worry?

Finch groggily emerged from his mountain. His skin was immediately met with the warmth of a setting sun. He missed that, as well as soaking his body on the lake nearby, being the only body of water he could use as a bath. He recognized he definitely needed one now, being covered in dirt and all. As he woke up from his usual hibernation, he wasn’t entirely aware how many years had passed this time around. However, he was subconsciously calm knowing that no human on their right mind would settle this close to the magical forest.

Yet, as his gaze was getting used to the long-forgotten light, he slowly focused on a tiny figure below him. When his view finally adjusted, he immediately became petrified.

He caught a glimpse of a cute tiny house and felt a huge wave of relief knowing that he didn’t accidentally crush it by waking up. However, when he scanned the area closer, he saw her.

A tiny. Tiny. Diminutive woman.

Staring right at him in terror.

Finch recognized her expression immediately. She was frozen in fear. Of course she was, he probably looked monstrous from her perspective, a monster covered in dirt. But why in the world was someone so small this near to the mountain range? His heart crushed at the sight, but he managed to maintain a calm expression in a pathetic attempt to look harmless.

He couldn’t even begin to fathom the tiny woman’s reaction if he were to stand up, this was one of those times he desperately wished he was smaller. He deduced the best option was to lower himself, and hopefully Finch could make her understand he absolutely meant no harm. Perhaps, they could even become friends in the future?

… who was he kidding? On his whole long, lonely life he had only met one human who was bold enough to give him a chance. He sulked for a second as he realized Charlie had probably passed away during his hibernation. Humans were so delicate and fascinating, but compared to a giant like Finch, they only lived for a blink of an eye.

As he painstakingly shifted his arms to lower his head on the ground, he heard the delicate sound of fluttering for an instant. His expression remained calm, yet curiousness slowly appeared on his features.

This woman was no human either. But a breathtakingly beautiful fairy.

It boggled his mind to be able to witness a fairy for the first time. From what he knew, fairies were shockingly smaller than humans, which seemed impossible. Through his perspective he conceived they probably would be the size of a firefly. So why was this fairy human-sized?

Pupils dilated, Finch observed the precious creature in front of him. Her resting translucent wings looked absolutely lovely, reflecting hues of pink and green of the remaining sunlight. Her long light brown curls captivated the mountain giant as they danced along the light fabric of her white dress. Framing a soft face, her gold olive eyes were painted with dread.

For an instant, Finch had forgotten that his mere presence caused the woman to tremble in horror as his heart proceeded to gradually ache with remorse. She looked so pale, and most likely about to pass out. Yet, when the little thing closed her eyes shut, he noticed a small tear falling along her cheek, his guilt couldn’t take it anymore, it was heartbreaking. It took an immense amount of strength to restrain himself from crying.

His whole life he had to suppress his emotions to coexist with other creatures, it had to be second nature for him.

And despite that, he unconsciously began to reach towards her…

- P-PLEASE … DON’T CRY …

The giant’s voice boomed, he croaked gruffly as if he hadn’t used his vocal cords in a long, long time. The strong vibrations and immense volume caused me to instinctively cover my ears. My mind started racing even more.

Giants could talk?! I genuinely believed they were too brute to have speech ability.

Up until this moment, I’d never encountered one, thus I was clearly unaware about the fact these creatures emerged from the freaking earth! I was almost certain their race had gone extinct. Probably because they couldn’t sustain themselves from such smaller animals. However, my knowledge of them was extremely limited.

A guttural deep voice caught my attention once again as I trembled with more intensity.

- I’m so so sorry … please don’t be …. scared. - The immense man begged in a whisper, though it still reverberated. Slowly, he retracted his hand from my body.

Why was he apologizing?

I remained frozen and I began to feel even more dizzy while my heart was beating like crazy.

Was this some type of psychological torture giants applied before devouring their prey? It was impossible for me to imagine he had nothing but good intentions. Humans were vicious, self-centered creatures, that constantly tortured magic beings for their own benefit. Why would a man a hundred times my size be worried about my well-being?

Even so, I couldn’t deny his gaze was filled with … anguish. And somehow it seemed as if he tried to appear smaller by laying his stomach on the ground. If he wanted to eat me …

Wouldn’t he’d done it already?

- May I ask … what’s your name? - I wasn’t able to detect any malice in his hoarse deep voice. However, his immense presence and the vibrations of his voice were incredibly overwhelming. My body began to fail me, and the bubbling fear was too much.

My limbs went numb.

And I faded away.

#gentle giant #size difference #female character #giant/tiny #gt scenario #giant tiny fluff #gt fluff #gt july #gt community #gianttiny #tiny #gt

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