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He must not find out—

“What if I told him, hm?”

Burning Spice, realizing he had once again drowned in his own head, lifted his gaze. Shadow Milk’s voice was silk, yet rotten, as his arm reached out beyond them both, to the door.

A dramatic course of action, as if reaching for something out of his range. “Would he seek your acceptance, even then? Would he seek you as a tutor?” Another psychotic giggle. “Would he want to be taken under the wings of a mass murderer—”

Burning Spice's hand snapped up to Shadow Milk’s wrist.

“You will not step foot anywhere within my son's proximity, or I will tear you apart, limb by limb.”

Silence dropped heavily on the room. All movements halted. The fog dissipated. 

Burning Spice's grip was vice on the other, teeth bared and breaths labored. It took him a long, long second to realize the grave mistake he had made, as his eyes widened. At the same time, Shadow Milk’s fixed gaze on the door turned to him slowly.

Stunned, baffled.

Just as the other's mouth parted—

“Your…son.”

The words did not belong to Shadow Milk.

Both beasts halted, tuning in on the world around them instead of their small bubble. The silence that followed was heavier than the weight of the world, pressing down on Burning Spice's chest.

His body had gone cold as ice, eyes wide as he mindlessly stared at the other beast. As if he could fix this, of all people. 

Shadow Milk who, despite being just as startled, started to grin. A subtle one, fang poking out slightly. ‘See? I didn't do anything.’ He seemed to say. 

Burning Spice snapped to the doorway. The Beast of Deceit vanished into thin air, leaving a ruckus of fog and emotions behind.

Standing there deathly still, with hands cradled to his chest, was Capsaicin. 

How long has he been standing there?

Neither of the beasts had noticed the sudden light pouring into the room during their exchange. Or maybe Shadow Milk had noticed it, yet decided to cruelly ignore it.

Nothing would help Burning Spice now; nothing would calm his racing heart, he realized, as his gaze fell on the boy standing at the door. 

Capsaicin's eyes were wide. In his lax grip was a piece of folded paper, lowering gradually with his arms. Aside from those, his face…was painfully blank. 

A numb kind of shock, an impending sense of disbelief and denial. 

The words were stuck in Burning Spice's throat, only staring. Staring with eyes he hoped would portray his message well. Don't believe it. Don't believe him. 

(Was that what he really wanted to say?)

The silence couldn't drag on forever, because Capsaicin's gaze fell down. He was thinking loud, and it was painfully obvious. “...You're my dad.” His voice was low, hesitant. Testing a word never uttered before in his mouth.

He was disappointed, he had to be. 

Swallowing the thick string of words he was desperate to say, Burning Spice stepped closer to the boy. Capsaicin didn't step away. “You were not supposed to find out.” He mumbled, standing just in front of Capsaicin whose eyes were still on the floor.

But he stirred at the words, brows furrowing. “..Why not?” Hastily, he glanced up with crinkled eyes. “Why wasn't I supposed to find out? Why?” He pushed, his tone growing more and more defensive.

Burning Spice opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. How was he supposed to— how could he even begin to explain years of misshapen thoughts? How could he explain that he was convinced that Capsaicin was gone? Gone for good?

How could he explain the endless possibilities and nightmares that plagued his mind ever since? Feeling ill at even the mere thought of what could have happened?

That he grieved and grieved and grieved? Making fragile peace with that fact, just to meet his dead son after all these years? In a place he never expected nonetheless?

Or…or maybe he could.

Could he? 

He could—

Even with his one second of hesitation, Capsaicin quickly straightened with feigned confidence. “You're ashamed.” His eyes glossed over, jaw clenching in an attempt to draw the feelings back in. “Aren't you?”

Ashamed?

Burning Spice frowned, confusion leaking into his features. “Why would I—” But he didn't get far before Capsaicin harshly dragged a hand down his face, stopping to pinch his eyes. “I-It makes sense! You're such a big shot, so strong, and—”

The letter had long slid from his grip as he lifted his palms to look at them in disgust. “And I can't even control my powers!” His hands trembled, and Capsaicin quickly curled his fingers sharply inside, trying to suppress the tremors. “It makes sense if you- if you—”

Shaking his head quickly, Burning Spice scooped Capsaicin's fists into his own, pressing them together. “That is not why I wanted you not to know.” He tried to sound reassuring, he really did, but anxiety was still coursing through his body so much, he was not far off from trembling himself. “I just—”

“But it checks out!” Capsaicin's voice cracked, head facing away but he made no attempts to actually pull away from Burning Spice's grasp. “It explains..why my first vivid memory isn't of you, but the orphanage.” His voice broke more on the last word, growing watery as his eyes screwed shut.

Orphanage. 

So…whoever had kidnapped Capsaicin had left him in good hands. Or as good as the situation had allowed. 

Yet, it didn't explain the restrictions around the boy's wrists. It didn't explain the absolute fear Capsaicin had of himself. His state of mind. It didn't explain anything. Something had happened, and Burning Spice could not gain access to the answers.

At least not yet.

Shaking his head, Capsaicin forcefully silenced Burning Spice who had just opened his mouth once more. His face crumpled as if in realization, seeming doubtful and angry all the same. “So then why- why?”

His features kept twisting, eyes fleeting as if looking for answers that he hadn't asked the questions of yet. He refused to meet Burning Spice's eyes. “You said you cared about me last night! Why would you leave me there if you did!?” His voice rose higher, squeezing his bright eyes shut.

That was when he started struggling against the hold on his closed fists. Squirming to get away and hide. But Burning Spice didn't let go. Not again. Never again. 

Capsaicin's words were hardly registering inside his brain, but when they did, Burning Spice hurried to answer them. Even if the boy wouldn't allow him to. He had to. “I did not leave—”

Not a single sentence could leave his mouth, for the witches’ sake. 

“You did! W-Why, too busy!?”

Faintly, Burning Spice realized the other wasn't fully present. Too immersed in his own thoughts, barely processing anything from outside. Arguing with shadows that weren't there. 

“Too busy doing- doing—” Capsaicin's eyes promptly snapped open, drifted behind Burning Spice, before a sob escaped him at last. Scanning the empty area. Eyes glossing over. 

The area where Shadow Milk had been minutes before. 

The realization settled cold and heavy in Burning Spice's heart. He had heard all of that. He had heard all of his vague, yet still wrong deeds. Even if the thought settled like ice in his stomach, he didn't take his gaze off Capsaicin.

His composure was wearing thin. 

“Capsaicin, look at me—”

“Destroying everything!? For no reas—!”

“You were my son before I destroyed everything!”

The outburst stunned them both into silence.

Capsaicin stopped struggling, eyes that were previously screwed shut now wide open and staring at him. Through the dangerous layer of gloss about to break. “What..?” He started, with a voice comparatively lower and breathier.

Burning Spice swallowed around the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly a few times. He wanted to look at Capsaicin's current face. 

He didn't want to look at him and see the younger version of him. The one where the horrors of this world weren't forced upon him. The one he had last seen before Capsaicin was taken away from. 

It only served to bring tears to his eyes, however much he tried to hold them back.

“You were mine, before everything was ruined.” He whispered it again, like it explained any further.

He noticed Capsaicin's eyes darting to his side, to the broken chunk missing from Burning Spice's that he probably thought was temporary. He saw the dots connecting in the boy's head, saw how his eyes widened a tad more.

Witches, it burnt when Capsaicin stared at him like this. “You were safe. In my arms, but then—” Burning Spice swallowed again, working against the blockage in his voice. But then I couldn't feel you anymore. “But then hours later, the cradle was empty. You were nowhere to be seen. I couldn't find you.” 

His eyes fell down to their still locked hands, Burning Spice's own caging Capsaicin's — the size difference only pained him more. He had held those hands when they weren't even the size of his fingers. The thought dragged a trembling exhale out of him. “I turned every stone, I sprinted every inch of my land, I searched everywhere. They took you away from me. They struck when I wasn't there, all because I—”

It dawned on him. He stopped.

“You said you cared about me last night! Why would you leave me there if you did!”

His ears started ringing.

He did leave. 

He had left Capsaicin all alone. In a place that wasn't his, in a room that wasn't ultimately his, only in a cradle that was made by him. All to tend to a mission. A mission.

Burning Spice's grip around Capsaicin faltered. His heart skipped a beat, the realization hitting him like ten boulders at once. “—I…left.” He muttered slowly, hands gradually slipping off. The stabbing thud of his heart didn't cease, and a tear slid down Burning Spice's face.

Hot, molten lava.

His head dropped, and despite himself, he took a step back. But he couldn't leave, wouldn't ever leave. Not again. Not again. So it took everything in him to just stand there and, for the first time ever, feel small underneath Capsaicin's gaze. Bracing for the hatred about to rain down on him. 

The boy had every right to hate him, now.

Silence dragged on for what seemed like eternity. Capsaicin's chains clacked together as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Was he walking away?

“...Did you know I was here, when you came to Scovillia?”

Burning Spice shook his head, huffing and running a hand through his hair. His goal had been so entirely different, yet it was now the last thing on his mind. Perhaps not even on his mind at all. “I didn't even know you were alive.” His voice broke. Materializing his thoughts had never felt heavier, settling stubbornly in his heart. 

He had grieved. So much. Over the uncertainty, over the doubt, over the what-ifs. 

He heard a shaky inhale. “...You didn't..stop looking,” Capsaicin mumbled, his hands twitching from the corner of Burning Spice's eyes — reaching out, ever so slightly. “Right? R-Right?”

And everything be damned, Burning Spice did not care for his dignity right now.

Lifting his head, he allowed his guilt to fuel the tears now slowly running down his face and sizzling against the ground. “Every step I took each day, my eyes never stopped wandering for signs of you.”

Capsaicin's cheeks were painted with running lava. He was biting his lip, shoulders jumping up every two seconds — hiccuping. Silent sobs. Burning Spice abandoned his shame, and the moment his hand was an ounce reached out, Capsaicin's body clashed against his own.

The boy buried himself deep in his embrace, sobs now violent as his arms wrapped around Burning Spice's torso exceptionally tight. “Damn it.” Capsaicin whispered, a weak fist forming as it kept on bumping against Burning Spice's chest. “Damn it.”

He couldn't agree more.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Capsaicin's trembling figure, then caved. His hesitance melted away, and he returned the hug tenfold. Allowing his tears to run more freely. “You can despise me.” He mumbled, an uncharacteristic shiver to his low voice, as Capsaicin shook his head roughly. The tears stained, but he wouldn't get hurt. "You have every right to—" 

“I don't want to. I can't- hate you.” He hiccuped, punching Burning Spice's shoulder one last time before surrendering. With every attempt at speaking, Capsaicin's voice kept breaking. Over and over. A blockage in his throat that wouldn't clear in just one night. Frustrated, he groaned loudly. His horns pulsed with his outburst.

Burning Spice only put his head down atop Capsaicin's hair, leaning his forehead against those chipped horns. “It's alright.” He whispered, knowing it wasn't. But if his words were even the slightest bit comforting, it was alright. He understood the anger, and he didn't want Capsaicin to think he was wrong for feeling it.

They…were bound to speak of this sooner or later, if Burning Spice had meant to tell him of this. 

Unfortunate that it happened sooner, much sooner than both could be ready for it. 

“You're not alone anymore,” Burning Spice caressed the boy's hair, watching the texture morph and move under his touch, as he slowly pulled away enough to finally gaze Capsaicin in the eyes. “My son.”

The dim light reflected on Capsaicin's glossy eyes, looking up. His lips wobbled and his brows twisted more, fresh tears pouring out as he sobbed. As if not believing he could be called that.

Or believing he didn't deserve it. 

He only gave a curt nod, trying to understand. Trying to accept. But it wasn't something to be done in one attempt, and they both knew that. 

So when Capsaicin hid his face in Burning Spice's arms instead, he didn't blame him. He didn't blame him for wanting safety.

Even if Burning Spice was someone far from safe.

But…he could try.

The letter had long fallen to the floor and burnt away into smithereens.