Paralyzed (Tboah!AlbeCale)

1) Wrong Kitchen...nvmd this shit's good af

He felt cold.

Cale Henituse attempted once again to warm up by rubbing his arms and legs harshly. It was like this every night since his mother passed away.

Ron tucked him into bed, blew out the candles, and shut the door. Then the cold invaded, even though the windows were shut tightly and he had many layers of blankets to curl up under.

He had no one besides Ron to go to when he woke up sweaty from nightmares, since his father never saw him anymore, and he didn't want to burden his siblings. He scarcely called for Ron anyway because of the very same reason.

So, here he lay, plagued with what the family doctor called 'insomnia'. It was probably well past midnight at this time, judging by the height of the moon visible through his window, but Cale could not fall asleep.

His chest started to rise and fall faster, and his loud heartbeat could be the only thing heard between shallow breaths.

Around this time was when the night terrors appeared, and bad things always happened whenever that occurred.

One major thing that aided in his panic was the frozen state his body took. In times like these, he missed his mother the most. It was a scary thing when dark monsters loomed over him while he could not move, let alone yell for help.

As he was thinking that, one suddenly walked out of the shadows, taking the shape of an ominous and extremely thin man. The man's body slowly shifted to the left and right at a steady pace, constantly facing Cale.

It was eerie how this 'person' did not breathe or show any signs of life, only moving back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Cale's breathing was nearing the point of hyperventilation, and his body was already paralysed.

He had been through this nearly every night since his mother's death roughly two years ago, putting him at eleven years old.

Most children liked to imagine happy and friendly people, and Cale tried as well, but all that changed was his shadow people gained horrific smiles and empty sockets for eyes.

It seemed no matter what he did, this continuous nightmare would never end.

...

"Young master, it's time to wake up."

Ron gently shook Cale's shoulder, but it seemed he was in a deep sleep, and would not wake from such subtle movement.

'The young master needs to wake up soon, so that he can visit young master Eric in time for afternoon tea.'

"Young master Cale, there's an important meeting you must attend today, so please wake up. You could be late if you sleep any longer, it is already 10 in the morning."

At this, the boy stirred, his eyes fluttering a bit but not yet opening.

"Hmm. Perhaps some cold water or lemonade will wake you up better."

"Mmm. I'm awake, I'm awake."

Cale groaned a bit louder than he meant to, but it perfectly described his feelings anyway.

He had finally fallen asleep only a few hours ago, only to be woken up and threatened with his least favorite morning drinks. Cold water made his throat ache, and lemonade— especially when Ron made it— tasted completely bitter and disgusting.

"It's time to get dressed, young master. Let us hurry, so that you have time to eat something filling before taking your trip to the Wheelsmans' residence."

"Sure."

Ron slightly raised an eyebrow at the young master's short and unbothered response. Usually he voiced complaints about waking up, or about the familiar comment about  lemonade. He might have been calmer because he slept in until 10, but one word answers were always a rarity.

"...I've already gathered some clothing options for today's schedule. Would you like to see them or pick out something from the wardrobe yourself?"

"Show yours."

'Again with the short responses. The young master must be awfully tired today.'

...

After getting changed and deciding to take a bath in the evening rather than the morning, Cale migrated downstairs to get a snack.

Not paying attention to where he was going, he accidentally walked into kitchen 2, which was Beacrox's personal kitchen.

Cale used to visit frequently back when his mother was still alive, but he hadn't really talked to Beacrox since then, and had even called his food trash a few times as part of his act. It also didn't help that Beacrox hated anyone entering his kitchen except his father.

That was why it was more than a little awkward when Cale made eye contact with him.

For a couple seconds nobody said a word, and just looked at the other with surprise. Cale was the one to break the silence while getting ready to turn on his heel before Beacrox could scold him.

"...Wrong kitchen."

"Wait, father mentioned earlier that you haven't eaten yet."

"...Yeah..."

Another minute silence descended upon the measly conversation, if it could even be called that.

In that short time however, Cale noticed Beacrox looked a little messier than usual, which was rare. In return, Beacrox noticed the bags under Cale's eyes, and the exhaustion sprinkled in his voice.

They both heard the embarrassingly loud growl of Cale's stomach as well.

"Here."

Beacrox presented a freshly baked slice of apple pie, paired with cold milk. Cale didn't feel like talking anymore, and Beacrox had no issue with resuming his tasks as the only chef of kitchen #2. So, Cale ate his snack quickly, while Beacrox started wiping the counters.

By the time Beacrox finished what he was doing, Cale had already left, leaving his plate and glass on the small table he had eaten at.

Beacrox stared at the plate that was licked clean for a moment, before muttering something quietly.

"I thought my food was 'vile' to you. Young master, why did you lie?"

A/n: This is by far the shortest chapter out of all the ones I have planned. Also if this first chap isn't your cup of tea, keep reading I swear the shadow bros aren't brought up often, maybe again in the next few chapters, but this story should have at least 40 chaps to water it down.

Thx for reading.