Mercy [boyxboy]

Chapter Three

The walk across campus isn't an exceptionally long one. Even though Aspen University—named so because it was built in the heart of Amberlin's capital, Aspen—is one of the more well-known universities in the country, efforts to expand the grounds have always been denied by the city council. Division One, the oldest of the six military states that make up Amberlin, has always been strictly against change, preferring to keep things as they are.

It's that sort of thinking, Mercy supposes, that he has to thank for the beautiful brick buildings that litter the campus grounds. During the day, the sun bathes the red, orange and beige bricks in sunlight, bringing about the illusion of stepping back in time. Even the majority of walkways are still made of the original cobblestone. Mercy's sure he isn't the only student who finds the grounds aesthetically pleasing.

Even now, as Mercy walks in the dark, only the soft glow of the campus lights to keep him company, he has a sense belonging to another era. It proves to calm him, if just marginally.

As he draws closer to Northam Library, his worries begin to poison his thoughts once again.

It's silly, he knows, to be upset over words he's heard before said by a man he'd only just met. It's even more pointless to be upset over Bentley's weak defense of him. The fact of the matter is, it hardly makes sense for Bentley to defend him as one would a friend. They aren't friends, not really. Mercy feels abruptly weary, feet sliding against the smooth tile flooring of the library's entrance as he enters the building, unsure. He shouldn't be here. David was joking. So what if he's feeling lonely? He shouldn't…

He doesn't know who you are, his subconscious taunts traitorously. That's why he's nice, because he isn't aware you're poisoned, just like your bastard of a brother. Bile rises up in Mercy's throat as his feet cease to move forward, frozen while what remains of his self-worth withers away. He wonders, briefly, if it would be easier to fill everyone's expectation of who he should be; to give in and become the right bastard they so obviously expect.

But, no. He can't do that.

Mercy's a coward in every sense of the word; just brave enough to try half-assedly to be who wants, but still too cowardly to stand up against his family; to stand up against every evil they represent. It's a never ending cycle of misery for which his unwillingness to fight against is to blame.

He wishes suddenly, fiercely, that he was stronger.

"Are you gonna stand there all night looking hopelessly lost or are you gonna ask me for help?"

Mercy rears back, startled to find he's wandered over near the circulation desk.

A stocky woman stands behind the counter. She's taller than him by a few inches, skin dark and strikingly beautiful against her wide, taupe eyes; her hair is pushed back messily with an array of black bobby pins, giving him the impression that she's in possession of haphazard personality. She cocks an eyebrow at him, half-smiling and expectant.

Her name tag reads Calister.

"Ah, no," Mercy begins with a stumble, "I wasn't paying attention to where I was headed. Sorry."

Calister chuckles warmly. "Head stuck in the clouds?"

Mercy frowns, thoughtful. "Something like that."

"Hm," Calister hums as she regards him. She pauses, frowns briefly, and then asks, "This might be rude of me to ask, but have we met before?"

Mercy goes perfectly still, gut heavy with dread. He entertains the idea of lying to her, but dismisses the thought almost wistfully. "Perhaps not directly," he tells her distractedly, "but I wouldn't be surprised if you've heard of me." There's nothing arrogant about the way he says it, just bare resignation.