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The Cleaners HQ common room was unusually quiet for once. The usual bustle had died down, leaving only the soft scratch of pencils and pens gliding across paper and the low murmur of conversation drifting from the far corner of the room. Gris, Bro, and Enjin had claimed a table over there, their voices blending together in a steady sound of background noise. Aside from that, the room was calm.
Rudo sat hunched over the table, shoulders curled inward as he leaned close to his work, his face only inches from the paper. His red eyes were sharp with focus, brows pulled together in concentration as the tip of his pencil dragged slowly across the white page.
Ever since he had asked Remlin to teach him to draw, they had taken the role surprisingly seriously, wanting to be a good teacher and to help the kid improve. Rudo had a feeling they also just liked having another drawing buddy around, someone to sit and sketch with for hours. Not that he was complaining.
So, here they were for another lesson, and of course, Dear and Guita joined in as well. Rudo’s assignment today was simple. Draw a cat. Easy.
It was safe to say, Rudo was actually improving little by little. He glanced down at the drawing taking shape beneath his hands. It… actually kind of looked like a cat. Not a perfect one, not even a particularly good one, but it had the right shape at least—two ears, four legs, and a tail that didn’t look completely accidental. Definitely not the amorphous blob of scribbles and smeared pencil marks his earlier attempts had turned into when his gloves dragged across the paper. The whiskers were a little crooked, and the legs were a bit wonky, but it was his best attempt so far. And for a moment, Rudo just stared at it, quietly surprised that something he drew actually resembled what it was supposed to be.
He resigned himself to not letting out a small, proud huff and went about finishing his masterpiece so he could hand it over to Remlin for grading. He squeezed his pencil a bit between his fingers. Almost immediately, a familiar prickling sensation flared up. Sharp pins and needles stabbing just under his nail beds and spreading down into his fingertips. It felt like tiny splinters lodged under the skin, pulsing every time he moved. But Rudo ignored it.
His hands had been a little uncomfortable since this morning, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to or couldn’t handle. He had learned to live with it. He paused and set the pencil down for a second, flexing his fingers slowly. His gloves creaked softly as the worn leather stretched with the movement. It sort of helped… kinda.
Rudo picked the pencil back up and leaned over his drawing again, lowering the tip carefully toward the paper. But the moment he pressed down, just enough to start another line, pain shot through his fingers. He jerked back, letting out a quiet hiss as the pencil slipped from his grip and clattered against the table. The only one who seemed to notice was Remlin. They glanced over at him, curiosity flickering across their face as their eyes dropped toward the fallen pencil.
Rudo quickly tried to play it off, not really liking the sudden attention. He casually shook out his hand, the motion sending a faint sting through his fingers again, but he forced his expression to stay neutral as he reached for the pencil. By then, Remlin’s head had drifted back down to their own drawing. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he could tell Enjin was glancing his way too.
He quickly looked back down at the table. Please stop. His fingers curled a little tighter around the pencil as he picked it up again, trying to ignore the dull ache settling deeper into his hand. Don’t look at me like that. It’s fine. I’m fine.
Enjin knew about his scarred hands. He had seen them before. Seen how bad they could get. It happened when he found the poor kid, curled in on himself in his room, his gloved hands clutched against his chest while he tried desperately to stay quiet through the burning pain tearing through them. Without hesitation, Enjin instantly hauled the boy up and dragged him straight to Eishia while Rudo stubbornly insisted he was fine.
Rudo silently hoped this flare-up wouldn’t come as swiftly or as brutally. Maybe it would stay dull and annoying, something he could grit his teeth through until he could get away from everyone. Unfortunately, he was going to end up dead wrong. As soon as he once again put pencil to paper, pain exploded through his hand. A sharp, electric jolt shot through his fingers and tore straight up his arm, fast and vicious. Rudo hissed aloud before he could stop himself, the pencil slipping from his grip, or rather being half-thrown, as his hand jerked away. It clattered loudly across the table before bouncing to the floor.
Now, all three kids were looking at him, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. Rudo shifted a bit awkwardly, shoulders drawing inward as the attention settled on him like a weight.
Please stop looking at me.
Guita was the first to speak up; she perked up slightly, leaning over the table with her hands resting on the edge. “Rudo, are you okay?” Her voice was concerned and sweet.
Rudo swallowed hard and quickly tried to brush things off again. “I’m fine,” he insisted.
He reached for his pencil again, determined to prove it, but he didn’t get very far. His hand trembled, fingers shaking as he tried to force them into a grip. His hand would not cooperate, as if it didn’t belong to him. But the intense pain made sure to remind him otherwise. A sudden surge of heat tore through his palm, like hot knives sliding beneath his skin and carving through the tender flesh of his fingers. The burning spread up through his hand, settling deep in his joints and under his nails until even the smallest movement sent another pulse of agony up his arm. It was his hand. His pain. His suffering.
Rudo’s breath hitched sharply as the agony flared. A quiet, broken sound slipped from his throat before he could stop it. A soft, strained cry that he immediately regretted the moment it escaped. His face burned. That was embarrassing. He desperately wanted to slap a hand over his mouth, but by this point, he could hardly even move his arms anymore. His eyes fixed stubbornly on the table, anywhere but the faces staring back at him. He didn’t want to see their expressions.
Guita was quick to hop to her feet. She didn’t need to ask again. The answer was written all over him. He made it quite obvious. He didn’t even need to see her face. He could hear the worry in her voice. “Oh!” she blurted out. “Don’t worry, I’ll get Eishia!”
Rudo’s head snapped up slightly at that. “Wha-Wait! No, it’s fine—” he tired, but her footsteps already thudded quickly out of the room. Great… He did not want to do this right now. Not in front of everyone. He could feel embarrassment clawing up his spine, hot and nearly suffocating.
He wanted nothing more than to get to his feet, scurry off to his room, and hide out until the pain went away, but he couldn’t even manage that. His arms felt heavy and useless; every tiny shift of his fingers sent another sharp pulse of agony through his hands. Moving felt impossible. All he could focus on right now was breathing through the sharp aches, dragging in slow, shaky breaths.
He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the table, staring at the faint scratches and worn grooves in the wood as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. He couldn’t look up. Because even without looking, he could feel it. The weight of their eyes.
They were silent, but he knew they were watching him. Staring at him. Judging him. He didn’t want to see it. He already knew what those faces looked like.
He knew those faces well…
It was how everyone looked at him back on the Sphere. The same cold stares that followed him everywhere. Eyes full of disdain that lingered on his hands just a little too long before flicking away in disgust, lips curled, and noses wrinkled. The hushed whispers that floated past his ears, which sometimes weren’t even whispers. Like they didn’t care that he heard them. Because he deserved to know.
Look at his hands.
That’s disgusting.
What’s wrong with him?
Don’t touch him. You’ll catch something.
His hands were disgusting, scarred, ruined, ugly. He was disgusting.
His hands shook as another wave of pain tore through them. Rudo sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the sound thin and shaky as he tried to keep himself quiet. Everything around him started to feel… distant. He felt far away from his own body, like watching through a fogged window. He could feel himself shift, but it lagged strangely in his mind, slow and delayed. The pain was starting to feel nauseating. Each pulse sent a dull wave of sickness rolling through his gut, leaving his head light and his breathing uneven. Even if he could force his body to move, there was no way he’d make it very far. There was no running away at this point.
Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed back into the room. Rudo heard the light bounce in Guita’s step as she hopped back inside, clearly pleased with herself. With his gaze still fixed downward on his shaking hands, though, he missed the proud little smile on her face that came with a mission accomplished.
“Eishia said to hold tight, she’s on her way,” the girl announced, slowly approaching the group. Though she was only a few steps away, her voice sounded strangely far off in Rudo’s ears, muffled and distant, like it was drifting toward him from the other end of a long hallway. “She also said you were supposed to come by this morning to have your bandages changed.” Guita lightly scolded, her hands on her hips. “Whatever that means.”
The words filtered slowly through the haze in Rudo’s head. Right… He remembered. Sort of… It’s just that this morning, he was more focused on getting to the cafeteria before Enjin and Riyo took all the good stuff. It must have slipped his mind after that. Now it had come back to bite him.
“Bandages?” He vaguely heard Remlin ask.
Guita only shrugged, dropping herself back down next to the artist with a casual plop.
Their voices were nearly drowned out by the heavy pounding in his ears. He wasn’t even sure what was causing it anymore. The pain in his hands. Or the crushing embarrassment twisting in his chest. God, he wanted to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. Even the adults’ quiet conversation seemed to have slowed to a stop. He knew Enjin and Gris were looking his way.
Rudo kept his head low, refusing to look up at anyone. His fingers trembled weakly where they rested against the wood, each pulse of burning ache sending another wave of nausea through his stomach. Then something heavy was gently set down on the table in front of him. The soft thunk broke through the pounding in his ears.
He blinked and slowly lifted his head, noticing a large bowl now sat on the table. Confused, he looked up a little further to see Eishia setting fresh bandages and a towel next to the bowl. When did she get here? Rudo didn’t even notice her come in. He must really be out of it.
“I-I’m sorry it took me so long,” she apologized. Honestly, Rudo wasn’t even sure how long she took, but he was sure it wasn’t that long. Time had become slippery somewhere along the way while he sat there trying not to fall apart.
Rudo glanced back at the bowl curiously. It was clear and seemed to be filled with water, but a faint haze swirled through it, like thin wisps of something dissolving beneath the surface. There was a subtle smell to it as well, something almost medicinal and clean with a faint herbal scent.
It took Rudo several seconds to realize Eishia had already started. His mind was still drifting, heavy and sluggish from the pain, and he didn’t fully register what she was doing until he felt it. The slow tug of fabric peeling away from his skin. His gloves had already been pulled off and set aside on the table.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. The cloth had stuck to the wounds beneath it, dark and stiff with dried blood, and as Eishia carefully began to remove it, the movement dragged painfully across the raw, marred skin of his palms and blackened fingers. It felt like the bandages were tearing pieces of him away with them.
He winced hard and bit his tongue, trying to hold back any embarrassing sound he might make. He refused to make another noise. Refused to give anyone else another reason to look at him. His gaze stayed locked downward on his and Eishia’s hands as she worked to remove his bandages. He didn’t look anywhere else. At anyone else. Not wanting to see the disgust and horror on their faces.
“We’re trying something new today,” Eishia spoke in her usual quiet and timid tone. Her movements were soft and careful as she eased the last of the bandages free and gently guided Rudo’s trembling hands forward and toward the bowl. He clenched his teeth, the contact almost unbearable at this point. The skin felt impossibly sensitive now, every brush of air or movement scraping across his nerves like fire.
She slowly dipped Rudo’s hands into the water, and he tensed instinctively the moment his fingers touched it. It stung at first, a sharp, prickling sensation that made his breath hitch as his muscles tightened. But after a few seconds, the sting softened a bit. The warmth of the water slowly seeped into his aching hands, sinking deep beneath the surface of the pain. The burning that had been clawing through his fingers began to dull, and relief spread through him in slow waves. It was so pleasantly warm and soothing. Rudo let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the tension draining from his shoulders as the ache finally began to calm. It felt… wonderful. Almost heavenly.
A soft sigh slipped from his lips. Before he could stop himself, Rudo let his head fall forward until his forehead rested against the table with a dull little thud. This was nice.
Somewhere nearby, he faintly heard soft laughter from Guita and Remlin. The sound made his brow twitch slightly against the tabletop. Were they making fun of him? The thought crept in automatically, bitter and defensive. He resisted the urge to click his tongue in annoyance. Instead, he just focused on this magical liquid and how it soothed the pain in his hands.
“Does that feel better, Rudo?” Eishia asked softly. Rudo didn’t bother lifting his head. With his forehead still resting against the table, he simply gave a small, tired nod. “We’re gonna let your hands soak for about five minutes.”
Rudo nodded again, the movement slow and absentminded as the warmth continued to work its way through his aching limbs. He vaguely heard Eishia step away to watch the clock.
The pain in his hands was reduced to a dull tingle. Even the loud ringing that had filled his ears earlier had begun to quiet, fading into the background until the room slowly started to sound normal again. After a few moments, Rudo lifted his head slightly from the table, looking at his hands through the clear glass bowl in front of him. This mysterious magic water seemed to be doing its job well, drawing out old blood and dirt from his wounds. He watched as the lingering blood was pulled from his scarred skin, clouding the water in swirling shades of red. It held his attention as it spread into soft spirals that slowly dissolved into the rest of the liquid. It was almost mesmerizing in a weird, morbid way.
It honestly felt better than having to clean them with a towel. Though a warm towel can feel nice, it can also be a bit irritating on the sensitive skin from time to time. Even something as soft as a towel can snag on his arms wrong and send a spark of pain through the limbs. Even the gentlest pressure could be enough to make him flinch.
Rudo finally felt brave enough to lift his gaze a bit higher, though his chin still rested on the table. He was ready to face the looks. The judgement. The aversion. The horror. The silent revulsion that always followed him whenever anyone saw his hands exposed.
But… He didn’t see any of that.
To his right, Dear had quietly returned to his own drawing, glancing toward Rudo only occasionally as if to check in. There was no disgust in his expression. Just the faintest flicker of curiosity, nothing more.
To his left, Gruita and Remlin were also just hanging out, chatting with their heads bent over their pictures. They glanced Rudo’s way now and then, too, but they didn’t look put off at all. They just smiled at him. Even the adults had gone back to their quiet conversation.
He didn’t get it. Were they not disgusted or grossed out? He was repulsive! He was quite literally making blood soup in front of them, and no one seemed to care. No one flinched in revolt. No one whispered. No one looked away. They were acting like this was… normal.
No. No way… They were just trying to be polite. He knew what they really thought. They were just hiding it. Enjin only helped him that one time because he had no other choice. Eishia only touched his disgusting hands because it was basically her job.
…Right?
Before he knew it, the five minutes were up. He straightened up and slowly withdrew his hands from the soothing water, letting the last droplets clinging to his fingers drip back into the bowl. He kept his gaze fixed on the water, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes as Eishia began preparing her other supplies.
He pulled his hands closer and glanced down at them. His palms were still slightly damp from the warm water, but the blood and grime from his old bandages had washed away almost completely. He flexed his fingers slowly, testing the movement, and already feeling that familiar, uncomfortable sensation creeping back up from his muscles and nerves. It was then that he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a smaller hand reaching for his.
Rudo immediately froze.
“Ah, Dear!” Bro called from somewhere behind them, rising from his chair. “You shouldn’t just reach for Rudo’s hands like that. It's not polite.”
Rudo’s chest tightened. Yeah, right… He really means to say that Dear shouldn’t touch him at all. He’s cursed, gross, untouchable.
Dear’s small face scrunched in a tiny grumble as he looked toward Bro. “You need to ask permission,” the man reminded him firmly.
Rudo’s eyes briefly lifted to Bro, just for a split second, before they drifted back down. Dear’s blue eyes met Rudo’s red ones, and the white-haired teen couldn’t quite place the look on the younger’s face. It wasn’t pity, or disgust, or fear. But it was something… familiar.
Rudo swallowed as he gently tilted his hand in Dear’s direction, letting his wrist fall and his palm open up before the young boy. Dear then reached for Rudo’s right hand once again, and gently took it in both of his. Rudo nearly held his breath as the youngest cleaner examined his scarred hand, his blue eyes focused as fingers gently traced over each line and flaw.
A soft tug on his other hand startled him. Guita and Remlin had taken hold of it, gently pulling it toward them. Guita pressed his hand flat against the soft paw of her onesie, his palm open and exposed once more.
Rudo watched as she tapped the skin with her other paw-covered hand, hesitating for a moment as if debating something. After a second, she decided to slip one arm out of her onesie, letting Rudo’s hand rest directly against her bare palm instead. Like Dear, she gently touched scarred skin, analyzing it closely. Remlin leaned in and joined her, carefully examining it as well.
Dear’s hands were small, but soft. And he was surprisingly gentle with Rudo. The same could be said for Guita, though her palm was a little warm and slightly sweaty from being trapped inside her onesie all the time. Remlin’s hands were a tiny bit calloused, most likely from their work as an artist, but their touch was still just as gentle and careful.
No one ever touched his hands like this, besides Regto. No one ever wanted to. They were grossed out by them. Afraid they’d catch some disease or maybe even a curse. But as Rudo sat there with his arms pulled out on either side of him, gentle hands running over his scarred skin, he realized something.
Neither one of them was looking at him with disgust.
Their eyes moved carefully and thoughtfully over the scars. It was like they were trying to understand. Like they wanted to understand Rudo’s pain and suffering. They looked at him with sympathy, but not pity. Not the kind that made his stomach twist. He could tell they wanted to ask questions. He could see it in the way their brows furrowed, the way their fingers paused at certain points. But they held those questions back. They didn’t push. He was sure the questions would come eventually. But for now… this was nice.
Warm hands held his without hesitation, tracing the scars that had always made others recoil. No one pulled away. No one told him he was dirty or gross.
Rudo glanced back down at the table. His breath hitched, and his throat suddenly felt tight. It was then that he heard Guita gasp. When he glanced at her, she looked worried and almost terrified. “Ah, Rudo, are you okay? Did we hurt you?” she asked quickly.
The teen blinked in confusion for a moment, only to realize his eyes felt a little wet. Oh…There were tears in his eyes. God, hasn’t he embarrassed himself enough for one day?
He shook his head quickly. “No, I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me,” he assured them.
Eishia slowly approached, smiling softly. “Ready for the bandages?”
Rudo nodded, slowly pulling his hands back toward himself.
“Oh! Can I watch?” Guita asked excitedly, leaning over the table a bit. “Just in case Rudo might need help again someday and you aren’t available?”
“Oh, me too!” Remlin chimed in, and Dear grunted in agreement.
Eishia smiled a bit awkwardly and glanced toward the white-haired boy. “W-Well, if it’s alright with Rudo.”
After a quiet moment, Rudo slowly nodded. He guessed it was okay.
They all sat closer as Eishia slowly wrapped the bandages around his hands, making sure they were snug, but not too tight. Rudo could feel the quiet attention in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the adults watching from where they stood, their conversation having faded into silence. But it was the kids who seemed the most focused.
Dear, Guita, and Remlin watched closely, their eyes tracking every motion of Eishia’s hands. Their expressions were serious, like this was the most important task in the world, memorizing everything.
And in that moment, Rudo didn’t mind being looked at.