CW: Explicit language, violence, mentions of physical abuse, alcohol abuse.
It’s well past noon when Rin swaggers towards the Sweet Brier, his foul mood soothed by the hefty bag of coins weighing down his pocket. His usual fence, Dizzy, had been generous with today’s haul, the excellent quality of the goods making the woman salivate. When she questioned her client about the origin of such fine wares, Rin told her outright that he’d conned and robbed the Hwans. If not for the Hwan’s family crest integrated into the design of several items, Dizzy would never have believed the lad. Needless to say, the look she gave Rin was nothing short of awe.
Then again, who else but the Rat would have the audacity and stupidity to rob the Governor himself?
There’s a scuffle outside the inn that’s kicked up the dust, casting a titian haze over the area. It’s not an uncommon sight at all in the Slums, let alone the Sweet Brier Inn, but Rin quickens his steps, eager to catch the tail end of some free entertainment.
He slips through the small crowd that has gathered around the fight. There is the occasional cheer and jeer, and above that’s the grunting and yelping of the fighters themselves. Popping out through the other side, Rin’s excited smile turns wry. Who else would it be but Bellow and Small?
Bell has a chubby boy in a headlock, their feet shuffling in the struggle and stirring up the dust. From here, Rin can see Small’s round face and his soft brown eyes squinting in pain. Fawn cheeks shine with sweat, the sunlight catching with every squirm and wriggle from his pudgy body. Short black hair, usually parted so neatly, is dishevelled and sticking up in all directions, turning him into a startled porcupine.
Small’s gentle demeanour and even gentler appearance make him a target for the hardened Slummers. There’s been more than a few instances of the boy getting beaten or robbed. Tiger had even tried to sell him off at one point, before realising who his mother was.
Rin being Rin, he can’t help but step into the circle of onlookers and join in on the fun. For some reason, bullying the poor boy brings him a wicked sense of satisfaction. Particularly when those beautiful brown eyes glisten with tears. The feeling that this betrayed expression produces in the Rat is exquisitely addictive.
“I told you not to come here anymore, you fuckin’ runt.” Bellow flexes his big arms, causing Small to yelp and wriggle even harder.
“B-Bell!” Small whines, his hands scrabbling against those lethal biceps. “I just wanted to hang out with you guys! C-can you please let me go?”
“D’you really think we wanna play around with a lil’ shit like you? I dunno why you got such a death wish, comin’ here everyday. You ain’t a Slummer, runt. You ain’t and you never will be one.” His narrowed green eyes widen when they catch sight of the figure stepping into the circle.
Rin’s complexion is healthy and pink, and he’s also gained some weight. His thin white robes, though covered in dust, are made from what appears to be Southern Silk, telling Bell that wherever his friend had spent the past fortnight, it had definitely not been in the Slums.
“Rat!” Bell hollers, his rough and rugged features turning a deep shade of red. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Small’s face lights up when he sees the raven, his brown eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “Rin! Help me, please! Bell w-won’t let me go!”
The Rat laughs and flips his unruly hair over his shoulder. “Now why would I do that?” he hums, ambling towards them at a lazy pace. “It looks like the fun’s just getting started.”
Sure enough, those big eyes well with tears, shock and hurt etched deeply across Small’s round face. “B-but I thought we were friends…” he whimpers, clutching at that iron bicep locked around his neck. “Aren’t we friends, Rin?”
“Are we?” Rin asks, cocking a brow.
Small’s bottom lip trembles and his entire body droops, hanging like a broken marionette in Bellow’s grasp. The bull growls and drops the boy, rolling his shoulders like a boxer about to get into the ring. “Come on, runt. Show me what you’ve got. If you can land a single hit, then I’ll let you stay. Hell, I’ll even let you join my gang. But you fail and you’re outta here. Got it?”
Rin presses his lips together, trying to stifle a laugh. He grabs the limp boy by the scruff of his neck and hauls him to his feet, the latter yelping in surprise. “Come on. Look at all these people watching. You wanna give them a good show, don’t you?”
Small’s eyes positively bulge when he scans the crowd surrounding them, his cheeks blanching a shade or two. When Rin releases him, his knees buckle beneath his weight, but he manages to stay upright. Somewhat.
“I-I couldn’t ever hurt you, Bell,” Small says meekly, rubbing at his eyes with a sniff. “Anyway, you’re just looking for an excuse to hit me again.”
The bull chortles and cracks his knuckles. “I don’t need an excuse, you lil’ shit. If I wanna beat you, I’ll just beat you. Like so–” A strike at Small’s belly sends the boy staggering back, his face contorting as he doubles over in pain. “Oh wait. I do have an excuse. You’re fuckin’ irritating. Now scram!”
Poor Small stumbles towards the Rat, clutching at the latter’s arm with one hand and rubbing his sore belly with the other. Those big eyes wobble with tears when he makes his plea. “Rin. Won’t you let me stay? You and Bell are my only friends and I like it here. I don’t want to leave. Please?”
Rin sighs and shakes the lad off his arm, brushing the dirt from his sleeve with an impatient air. “Just go back home like a good boy. Iris is gonna lose her shit if she finds out you’re here. Aren’t you scared of getting a beating? She punches harder than me and Bellow put together.”
“Mother wouldn’t ever beat me,” Small gasps, clearly upset by the mere thought. “What a terrible thing to say!”
“Yeah, well. If it’s not you that’s getting beat, then it’s us for ‘leading you astray’.”
“But Rin, you promised that you’d show me how to ‘bring in the ladies’. Isn’t that what you said? Friends don’t break promises–”
“For the love of–do I have to break something for you to understand? We. Are. Not. Friends.” Each word is punctuated with a sharp punch to his soft body, eliciting a yelp for every blow.
Rin pushes his hair from his damp face with an ugly sneer twisting his features. Small brings out the Rat’s sadism like no-one else does. Every shred of frustration, anger, and bitterness that the raven’s experienced in the past twelve hours is being taken out on this poor boy without a single shred of mercy. That heavy, sour feeling in his chest easing with every blow he lands. Gritting his teeth, he gives Small a sharp kick, sending him sprawling across the dirt.
Rin sneers, his cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed. “Did you get the message? Do I need to repeat myself?”
Small blubbers, face buried in the crook of his arm as he drags himself to his feet.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Obbx ja sbe! P atbeuta sbe ilxfv la tfgf. Ktbeuta sbe kjcafv ab yf j Viewwfg?”
Vkbiifc ygbkc fsfr uijgf ja Elc jr atf ybs gjlrfr tlr tfjv, mtffxr ragfjxfv klat vlga jcv afjgr.
Elc rmboor jcv obivr tlr jgwr, ulnlcu atf ybs j cjggbk ibbx. “Tbe’gf cba j Viewwfg, Vwjii. Xb tbwf ktlif sbe mjc ralii kjix. Gbc’a yf jc lvlba.”
Small’s head droops, hiding his expression. Fat tears drip steadily from his chin, evaporating as soon as they hit the hot earth. “I know what you’re trying to do. I’m sorry mother yelled at you. She didn’t mean to say what she said. I think…she was just trying to p-protect me.” Pudgy fists clench tight and he raises his head, lips trembling as he glares at Rin and Bellow. “But you two are my friends. My only friends. And-and the Slums is my home too. I was born here, you know. Which means I’m a Slummer by blood. S-so…” He pulls in a deep breath, cheeks swelling, before yelling, “So you can both f-fuck off!”
Rin and Bellow stare at the meek boy with raised brows, genuinely surprised. They exchange looks, both pursing their lips as their faces start turning red. And in the next second, they erupt, howling laughter filling the air and shattering the tense atmosphere.
Humiliation colouring his round face, Small tearfully stumbles away, yelling over his shoulder that he would return tomorrow, and the next day, and everyday after that no matter how badly they might beat him.
Rin hums with the remnants of his laughing fit as he watches Small disappear into the dispersing crowd, a relaxed smile touching his lips.
“What did he do this time?” he asks Bellow.
“Bah. It’s like what the runt said. But today’s not a good day for him to be here. Anyway, he wouldn’t listen to me, no matter how much I tried to tell him. Thinks he’s invincible or somethin’.” Bellow cracks his neck and sits at an empty table, rubbing his calloused knuckles. He squints at Rin for a moment and growls, “You didn’t answer my question. Where’ve you been?”
Rin forgoes a chair and nimbly hops onto the table instead, preferring to sit in the lotus position as he leans his cheek in a hand. “Out and about. Why isn’t today a good day?”
The Bull grumbles at Rin’s vague response. He hocks up a gob of phlegm and spits to the side. “The Marquis and his Hounds are out looking for blood. Apparently Tiger’s been stealing jobs from the Pack for months now, and the Marquis’ only just caught wind of it.”
“Slow as always, Korain,” Rin mutters to himself, lips pursed into a wry smile. His eyes are dark however, lacking their usual light. Louder, he says to Bell, “Where is Tiger? I have a little favour I need to return.”
The larger boy grunts and shrugs, idly scratching at his chest. “Dunno. You should stay away from that asshole anyway. Don’t you remember what he tried to do to you last time?” He pulls his hand out his shirt and punches Rin’s arm, causing him to tilt dangerously to the side. “You ain’t ever been ‘out and about’ for two whole weeks before. You didn’t get snatched again, did you?”
“Hm. Something like that,” Rin frowns, rubbing his aching arm. “Wouldn’t you believe it, I’ve been staying at the Governor’s estate.”
“Hah! I don’t believe it,” Bellow agrees, snorting at what he assumes is a blatant lie. “Come on, Rat. I thought you were actually dead this time. Sent my boys out lookin’ for you for days. Eventually, I just figured you finally pissed off the wrong person and got what was comin’ to you.”
“Aw, pet. Were you worried about me?” Rin lilts, leaning over to blow into Bell’s ear. The latter growls and bats him away. “That’s so sweet. But it’ll take more than that to kill me. Whether you believe me or not, it’s irrelevant. I’ll tell you what happened though. I saw an opportunity and I caught myself a big whale.”
He absently pats the pocket in the inner lining of his robe, feeling the heavy weight of his Very Large coin purse. All the pain, the bitterness, and the near-possession. It was all worth it in the end. Satisfaction blooms like a well watered flower, filling Rin with foolish optimism.
Who needs a little lord when a bag of coins would suffice?
“Yeah right,” Bellow grins, scratching his ear with a pinky. “Well, you may be fine now but you better not let the Marquis catch sight of you. It ain’t just the runt that shouldn’t be here.”
The raven hums in agreement and jabs his lower lip with his fingertips, frustratedly. “I have to run to Dasom’s for a bit. Can I sleep with you tonight?”
The bull’s ears turn a deep shade of red as he gives a grunt of assent. “Just don’t let my old man see you.”
“Oh, I know. Old man Bellow’s had his eye on me for some time. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“You’re foul, Rat.”
“The foulest.”
“Don’t you ever get sick of that shit?”
Rin raises a brow at his friend, head tilted to the side. “Of what?”
“I dunno. People lookin’ at you like that,” Bell grumbles, glaring at the passerbys but not quite looking at them. “Like you’re a Rose when you ain’t one.”
“They only look at me like that because I let them,” Rin scoffs, a little creeped out by the other boy’s concern. “You don’t have to be jealous, pet. You’re the only one who’s ever had the privilege of cooking me breakfast.”
“I ain’t jealous,” the larger boy growls, his face burning until his cheeks match the colour of his ears. But there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, as he’s evidently pleased by his so-called privilege. “…I caught a chicken the other day. I’ll make you stew for breakfast.”
Rin laughs, hopping off the table. He pauses to give the bull a quick peck on the cheek before scampering off, skipping around the half-hearted swats of those big, meaty fists.
***
The street is quiet when the Rat ambles towards his mother’s house, chewing on a long stalk of grass and humming tunelessly to himself. There’s a strange sense of anticipation rising in his chest with every step he takes, as if he were actually excited to see Dasom.
Though his excitement is anomalous, he simply chalks it up to being back home in the Slums. He’s looking forward to slipping back into old routines, albeit ten times richer than before. Even a nasty fight with his mother would serve as a welcome reminder of his place in life. Of where his feet firmly stand.
Rin the Rat belongs in this world, with the stench and the grime and the ugly, scarred faces. The past two weeks had been nothing but a pretty fever dream, a simple bauble of an experience that he can add to his collection.
As usual, the old woman, Nuwa, is sitting out in her yard, feeding her chickens, though there are noticeably fewer of the creatures than before. The hole in her fence is patched up rather well, making it sturdy to the hardest of kicks. Nuwa clicks her tongue when she sees the boy saunter past the fence, her milky eyes narrowed in disapproval.
“That mother of yours has been searching for you,” she calls out, her voice weathered with age yet strong enough to carry to the road. “Foolish girl caught the chill wandering about in the rain. If it weren’t for Iris, she’d be a corpse for you to bury.”
Rins pauses at the patched up hole, his expression dour. “You know, just because you got front row seats, doesn’t mean you can muscle your way into the show. Just feed your chickens and keep your godsdamned mouth shut, you old prune.”
He gives the fence another hard kick but only manages to make a small dent in the new fortification. Sucking air through his teeth, the raven continues on to Dasom’s house, limping slightly on his aching foot.
From the old woman’s ramshackle house, an incredibly tall figure steps out, having to stoop over to avoid banging her head on the door frame. When she straightens up, one can see a handsome heart-shaped face with bright amber eyes and ruddy cheeks. She appears to be middle-aged, yet she remains as sturdy as a youth in their prime. Her robes are simple in design, the dark grey cloth wrapped around her towering form giving her an imposing bearing, if not for her expressive face.
This giantess squats beside the elder’s rocking chair and picks up a chicken with her large hands to coddle and pet. She rolls a shoulder to flick back her long ponytail, thick black locks swinging out behind. “You shouldn’t let him speak to you like that, Nuwa.” Her voice has an alluring husk and rumbles through her strong chest. The sleepy chicken in her hand pecks at her fingers, as if in agreement.
The old woman tuts again, gently rocking back and forth as she watches the boy limp to his mother’s house. “Do you think the lulua whale cares what the tiny rusida fish does?” she drawls, tossing a handful of grains across the yard. “His temper is of a child’s. It is my obligation to simply bear witness to it.”
“I’m sure even the lulua whale would appreciate the respect it so deserves.”
“This whale only needs the respect of a few. The rest are of no consequence to me.” Nuwa waves a hand at her companion, silently urging her on. “Come. Tell me what you have found.”
The younger woman sets down the dozy chicken and rises to her feet, casting an exceedingly long shadow across the yard. “I spent the last few weeks visiting my hometown in the South. The situation is tense. Mother and father are about to separate, I’m certain of it. Within the next few weeks, I think.”
Nuwa nods slowly, closing her eyes as she leans back in her chair. “And how is the rest of the family? Our mutual friends?”
“Everyone is healthy for now. There have been a few fights between the cousins on either side of my family, but nothing major. Our mutual friends have already arrived and made their presence known. They have set up a shop in the middle of town and it seems like they’re settling in well. The locals seem to enjoy their service.”
“And the Governor of your hometown?”
“He’s always been quite smitten by mother, so he and father are on bad terms.”
Nuwa opens her eyes and smiles, the deep lines in her face shifting around her sharp features. “I think it’s about time for him to step down, don’t you Bo?”
Bo gives her old friend a toothy grin and rests a large hand on Nuwa’s shoulder. “I think father would make a much better Governor.”
“Then you know what to do.” Nuwa gives that large hand a fond pat. “Now go and get dinner started. I’m starved.”
“Did you miss my cooking, Nuwa?”
“Hm. Only your black bean stew. Otherwise it’s all horrendous.”
“…Black bean stew it is.”
***
Dasom is sitting on the worn couch before the roaring fireplace, wrapped in a thin shawl as she drinks river wine from the bottle. Several empty bottles are scattered across the one room house, some gathering dust, others still gleaming from a recent binge. The air is thick with a sickly sweet scent, and the heat turns this tiny place into a live oven.
Sweat drenches the Rat’s body as soon as the door closes behind him, white robes turning sheer in parts and sticking to his skin. He squints against the heat and pads towards the hearth, intending to douse the uncontrollable flames.
“You…” Dasom sways in shock when she sees her son crouch before the fire, her bloodshot eyes bulging from her thin, gaunt face. “You’re alive.”
Rin sighs, dumping ash into the flames with an iron shovel. He pauses to glance over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of his drunken mother. Lips purse together in silent anger as he turns back around, stabbing the shovel deep into the big pile of ash. “Alive and kicking. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Disappoint…? Why would I be disappointed?” The woman’s voice thickens, as if she were on the verge of tears. “When you didn’t come home…I knew something was wrong. I looked for you everywhere, Subin-ah–”
“Don’t call me that,” Rin snaps, tossing down the shovel and rising to his feet. He stalks up to Dasom and snatches the bottle from her hand. “My name is Rin. Not Subin. Also, I didn’t ask you to look for me. I dunno why you’d even bother.” He pauses, glancing at the half drunk bottle in his hand. A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Oh wait. I do know. You used up all your money on this piss water again, didn’t you?”
Dasom frowns and makes a grab for the bottle, only to miss by a wide margin. She sways and slumps back into the couch, chin hitting her chest. Straggly locks fall over her eyes, making her appear rather young and vulnerable. “Subin is your name,” she protests, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palms. “Subin is the name I gave you. Rin is the name he gave you. And he left. So your name is Subin now. Subin. Do you understand?”
“It’s an ugly name. I’d rather use the one he gave me.” Rin drops down beside his mother and takes a long swig from the bottle, quenching his thirst. “Where’d it come from anyway? Don’t tell me it was your father’s name.”
“I don’t know what my father’s name is,” Dasom murmurs, raising her face to stare blearily at her son. She gives him a wobbly smile, her hidden beauty rising to the surface like an ephemeral light. “The only blood that runs through your veins is your father’s blood. I come from nothing, so my blood means nothing. And I can only give you an ugly name. I’m sorry.”
Rin glances away, grimacing faintly. He hates this Dasom. The violent Dasom, the screaming and enraged Dasom, hell, even the weepy and hysterical Dasom is easier to deal with. This Dasom however is difficult to stomach. He always finds himself swayed by her words and giving into his wishful thinking, that maybe, just maybe, things could be normal between them for once.
And always, he’s left disappointed.
Even though he knows this old song and dance, Rin still can’t help but fall back into those well rehearsed steps. He’s a veteran at this and it’s just too damn hard to just walk away.
“…I suppose there are uglier names out there,” he mutters, shoulders rising a tad as he takes another long swig.
“Subin-ah.” He can hear the smile in her voice and he feels his gut twisting like a wet towel being wrung. “Subin-ah. What would I be without you? I would be nothing. And I would have no-one. Don’t leave me again. Your mother is so old and lonely. Don’t you find me pitiful?”
His hand turns white around the neck of the bottle. Sweat drips into his eyes, stinging them. “Why did you look for me, Dasom?” he asks, quietly, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “Why did you care this time?”
“I always care, Subin. You are my world. How could I not look for you?”
“…The old witch told me you got sick.”
“Mn. I caught a chill when I was looking for you in the rain.”
“Why did you do that? That was…stupid.” He wrings the bottle, palms damp with sweat.
“I was worried you would be caught in the rain. I kept imagining you sleeping on the streets, drenched and cold. How could I stay home when my child could be in such a miserable state?”
“Don’t…” Pale lips barely form the syllable. His heart is unsteady and raw. “Please. Don’t do this. I can’t do this.”
Dasom furrows her brows and she grasps the boy’s arm, her touch warm and gentle. “What’s wrong, Subin? You can tell your mother. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it better.”
A tremour takes hold of the raven’s body, his hardened expression cracking as his composure starts to crumble.
“…I almost died,” he whispers, staring blindly into the fire. Hot colours bleed and blur into each other, shivering with an elastic fragility. “I really thought that was the end. That I was going to die in a shitty alley in the Slums, with the whole world passing by like nothing was even happening.” He buries his face in his hand, thick tears dripping freely down his cheeks.
The drunken woman sits as still as a statue, staring at her son with a strangely sober expression. Her eyes are pitch black save for a flicker of firelight dancing in their depths. Slowly, mindlessly, she wraps her arms around his trembling form, pulling him into a tight embrace.
The boy drops the bottle and clings onto his mother, face buried in the crook of her arm as he cries without inhibition. Dasom strokes her son’s head and rocks him gently back and forth.
The bottle rolls across the ground until it hits the wall. The late afternoon sun peeks through the tattered curtains, printing dappled light upon the deep green glass. Sweet blue liquid soaks into the wooden floor.
When the boy is finally calm, he pulls away from his mother’s arms without a modicum of embarrassment. He knows she probably won’t remember this and he’s the only witness to his tears. So there’s no use feeling shame. Not in a place like this. And not in front of a person like his mother.
“Subin-ah,” his mother calls his name, softly. Her gaze is tender, trepidatious, and imploring. “No matter how much hardship you must endure…however scared you are…you have to be strong.”
Rin scrubs his swollen eyes and sniffs, bringing his knees up to hug against his chest. “I know,” he croaks. “I am strong. No thanks to you.”
A darkness swallows her eyes, snuffing out the lights as if they were stars imploding one after the other. “Subin.” Her tone is chilling, forcing his full attention to her next words. “You are much like your mother. Which means you have an incurable sickness. You must never let it destroy your humanity, do you understand?”
The raven frowns at Dasom, confusion and incredulity rising in tandem. “You’re the one that thinks I’m a monster, remember? What’s the use in telling me all this now?”
“I know who you are. And I know what you will become.” Dasom falls quiet, eyelids drooping over her lifeless eyes. “I have failed as your mother. I should have stopped you when I had the chance. I should have…I should have never let you be born.”
Rin laughs wetly, his voice hoarse and slightly nasally from his stuffy nose. “Come on, Dasom. I already feel like shit. Can’t you just give it a break for once?”
A flicker of guilt crosses the woman’s features. She lifts her hand to brush the sticky hair from her son’s eyes.
The two fall into a deep silence, both souls too weary to keep ahold of grudges. Rin briefly closes his eyes, pretending for a bittersweet moment that he has a mother who entirely dotes on him. “I met someone,” he murmurs, heart aching when he sees a pair of radiant golden eyes through the gloom behind his eyelids. “A filthy rich noble who thinks he can save everyone.” Rin laughs, his voice hoarse and slightly nasally from his stuffy nose. “He thinks he can save me, Dasom. Isn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”
The woman sits quietly beside him, watching him with an unreadable expression upon her pale face. “He sounds wonderful,” she murmurs, fiddling clumsily with the front of her dress. “Your father was like that. Back when we first met. I thought he was just a stupid boy. But really, in a way, he did save me.”
“The guy’s an asshole. He didn’t really save you if he abandoned you afterwards.” Rin scoffs, dropping his chin atop his knees. Firelight bounces off his damp cheeks and sends a tremulous light through his eyes.
“I don’t need saving,” he mutters, dewy lashes falling low over his shimmering gaze. By the way he speaks, it’s almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. “And even if I do, I’m too far gone. It’s like you said. There’s something wrong with me. Something incurable.” Brows knit together as if he were in pain. “He was gonna toss me aside anyway. I was nothing more than a stray animal he picked up off the side of the road. A project for his guilty conscience.”
Dasom leans her head against the couch backing, eyes drooping as she grows drowsy from the drink. “I like to think…maybe I could be saved. If one day…she comes back…and things are different this time…” Her eyes flutter close, the rest of her words turning into incoherent mumbling.
“If he comes back, you mean.” Rin murmurs, watching his mother fall asleep with a heavy expression. “And he’s not. He’s not ever coming back. So stop killing yourself over him.” He gently readjusts her shawl, making sure both of her arms are covered. “It’s time to let him go, mother.”
When Dasom wakes, there would be no sign of her son ever being there. Save for a very large and very full coin bag sitting beside her on the couch.
Ronnie, do you really just care about your Very Large coin bag?
Thank you for the chapter!! ❤️❤️
Rinnie* QAQ
LOLLL Ronnie 😂 Yes, he only cares about his coin bag…or so he tells himself. Thanks for reading~~ <333
Being that naive and still being able to survive in the Slum… isn’t Small lucky he got a great mother 😭
And also… that’s short??
Ahh i-it’s short compared to the chapters i write now T__T And Small doesn’t live in the Slums, not since he was a bab. Which is…for the best 😂 Thank you for reading!! <333
Omg I’m loving the interactions between Bell and Rat. They’re so cute.
Haha I love Bell and Rat too!!! They are super fun to write <3
Bellow is a good friend(✿ ♡‿♡)