R and Malakai - the begining
- Apr 30
- 12 min read
R’s gut was churning unsteadily. It had been his sixteenth birthday yesterday and it had passed with little fanfare. His father wasn’t a celebrator. Father did, however, announce it was time for R to learn the family trade. By which he’d meant R should take on all the jobs Rumpelstiltskin himself didn’t want to do.
And from the state of his office, R would hazard a guess that one of those jobs was organising the files. Another one was orientation of the new recruits. R didn’t know what to expect but that was how Father approached lessons—by throwing you in the deep end.
R hadn’t enjoyed learning to swim.
R’s fingers tightened around his clipboard and his eyes ran over the paper again. He was so focused that he didn’t even see them arrive. It was his father’s deep baritone that snapped him to attention. “R, I’ve got work to do.” He strode out of the room.
His father was gone before R could even open his mouth. “Welcome,” he squeaked at the new Collector. His voice broke, and he flushed. What a way to make a first impression. “I’m R and this is—”
A dark haired boy who looked about his age, maybe a little older, sneered. “You’re his son?” he jerked his chin to the door Rumpelstiltskin had disappeared out of.
R swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he said meekly.
The guy made a sound of disgust and turned his attention back to the window.
R looked down at his clipboard. It was shaking—no—his hands were shaking.
He’d grown up mostly alone with only his father for company. Though that wasn’t completely accurate, his father wasn’t around enough to be considered company. There were the other Collectors but most of them didn’t want R around and it was only a few that tolerated him.
This boy, though. There was something magnetic about him. R couldn’t keep his awareness from drifting back to him. The boy was gorgeous; with a lanky figure he had yet to grow into. Despite his awkward proportions, he still held himself with a confidence and ease R could never even hope to achieve.
R snapped his attention to his notes again, cursing himself. He needed to focus.
The boy’s name was Malakai, and he loathed R. Whenever they were in the same room, he was either glaring at R or ignoring him.
Currently, R was sitting at dinner with his father. Which was unusual. Rumpelstiltskin tended to avoid the Collectors unless he was finding some new amusing way to torment the souls in his service.
Malakai was across the room and wearing a bright blue shirt. The colour suited him. Over the past few weeks, his shoulders had broadened and filled out. A process R was taking careful note of.
“R!” his father said abruptly. “Are you even paying attention?” It was so loud that the whole dining room heard it. They all turned to look at them; most with a healthy dose of Rumpelstiltskin fear (R knew that fear so intimately he’d recognise it on anyone) and a few looked over with a brave curiosity.
R dropped his gaze. “Yes, of course.”
“Good,” his father said, clapping him on the back and still speaking a little too loudly. “I’ll make a Rumpelstiltskin of you yet.”
A shiver ran through R. He doubted that. Whatever his father was carved out of, R had to be the opposite. “Yeah,” he said half-heartedly. He glanced up and locked eyes with the beautiful and stern Malakai. R looked away.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” Malakai called out.
R almost tripped over but caught himself at the last moment. He hadn’t fallen, thank goodness, but it made for an awkward stumble. “I prefer to be called R,” he said uncomfortably.
“Right.” Malakai had been waiting, leaning against the wall outside the dining room. His arms were crossed and a foot was resting on the wall so that his leg created a triangle. He looked so effortlessly cool. “What do you want?”
“I…what…nothing,” R stuttered. For a strange reason, he wished he had his clipboard to hide behind.
Malakai pushed off the wall, unfolding himself elegantly. “You keep staring at me and you are a Rumpelstiltskin. So, I’ll repeat. What. Do. You. Want?” With the delivery of each word, he stepped closer and with each step, R felt himself get redder.
“Nothing, I swear,” R said desperately. He couldn’t believe Malakai had noticed his fascination. He’d been trying to be subtle. Apparently, that was another thing he could add to the list of things he wasn’t good at.
Malakai studied him a moment and took another step closer.
R stumbled back but only made it a few steps before he hit the opposite wall. His face felt so hot it might melt off.
Malakai tilted his head to the side. “Nothing, huh?” His voice was smooth and knowing. Then he slid away from R and strode off down the hall.
R let out a shaky breath. His brain was still not fully comprehending what had happened.
R’s breaths echoed in his ears as he skidded around a corner. There had been two Collectors in particular who had been giving him a hard time over the last month, and they were at it again. They pounded down the hall behind him. But he was faster. R turned another few corners, their footsteps far enough that he chanced stopping at a door. He used one hand to pull the door handle and the other to fish out the massive collection of keys in case it was locked. Luck was on his side. The door opened under his fingertips.
He ducked inside and slammed it shut. R rested his forehead against the door. His breaths sounded like thunder to his own ears. He strained his hearing to listen for their footsteps.
They rushed past, and he let out a breath. His shoulders sagged.
“What are you doing here?” asked a familiar voice behind him.
R swung around in surprise. He turned back around to face the door hastily. He closed his eyes and cursed softly. Not only had he barged into Malakai’s room. He’d barged into Malakai’s room while he was shirtless.
R took a moment to steady himself. Then, slower, he turned around.
“I’m hiding out for a few minutes. Then I’ll be out of your hair,” R said. For no reason, he rapped on the door with his knuckles.
“Hiding from?” Malakai asked.
R opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He was doing a decent job of not letting his gaze wander down to Malakai’s chest. He was a little proud of himself for that.
Malakai frowned. “You’re getting a black eye.”
“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. I didn’t notice while they were punching me,” R said sarcastically. He could already feel the tender skin starting to swell. He was not a stranger to bruises and welts; he’d spent most of his life accustomed to them.
Surprise flitted across Malakai’s face.
R popped his head out the door. The coast was clear. Unless they doubled back, which they never did. “Okay, thanks for the sanctuary,” R called over his shoulder as he ducked out of the room. He needed to make it to his own bedroom, and it would be fine. The Collectors never came for him there. He didn’t even know if they knew where it was. Then he could spend the rest of the night with ice on his eye, drinking some pomegranate juice and not obsessing over the image of shirtless Malakai that was burned into his brain.
R was in the process of organising all the different papers, contracts and notes Father had collected over the years. It was a massive job and quite confusing. Most of his father’s handwriting was hard enough to read, let alone work out which notes were connected with which contracts. R was considering calling it quits for the day or, alternatively, setting the room on fire.
Suddenly, Malakai was in the doorway. He said nothing, only watched as R sorted through a stack of null contracts. R felt they didn’t need to keep them, but his father along with all his ancestors seemed to have the hoarder’s gene. As evidenced by the state of the entire Chateau.
Finally, Malakai said, “Your eye looks better.”
R’s attention shifted momentarily to Malakai. “Umm thanks.” That probably wasn’t the right response. Though he couldn’t for the life of him think of what the right response would be.
“A Collector did that to you?”
R tensed. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell your dad?”
R shrugged.
“But he would stop them.”
“That would depend on if he cared.” R already knew Father didn’t care. Well maybe he would care in a “Collectors shouldn’t attack a Rumpelstiltskin” way, but not in a “don’t hurt my son” way. A cold rock settled in R’s stomach at the thought.
“He probably would.”
R sighed. “You haven’t been here long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Malakai said defensively.
R rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to dig into the psychology of his father and their relationship right now. “Even if it would stop them and even if he did care, I wouldn’t tell him.”
Malakai frowned.
R anticipated the next question and answered it prematurely. “No one deserves my father’s punishments. So, if they are angry enough to land a few punches, I won’t stop them.” He added for good measure, “I can outrun them, anyway.”
Malakai surveyed him and mused, “You aren’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” R said, perplexed.
Malakai stared at him with those intense, beautiful eyes for a moment too long, then he walked out of the room. It was only when he was gone that R realised Malakai hadn’t answered the question.
R was crying.
It didn’t happen often. There wasn’t much his father could do that surprised him anymore. But Rumpelstiltskin had a talent for sniffing out what made you weakest. He loved the torment he could inflict and if he ever ran out of people to torment, he always came back to R.
R was sitting next to the begonia patch. It was his favourite place in the garden. The flowers were blooming at the moment, and it made him happy to see them thriving.
“R?”
R sniffled and looked up to see Malakai looking down at him. He was carrying a pile of logs and wearing a singlet that showed off all the muscles in his arms.
“Are you crying?” he asked.
“No.” The word sounded watery.
Malakai looked around as if there might be someone nearby that could step in and take over for him. But there was no one, so he dropped the logs and lowered himself into the grass beside R. He shifted uncomfortably. “So, you good?”
R sniffled. “You’re horrible at this.”
Malakai spread his arms. “I’m the only one here.”
R’s eyes flicked away. “It’s my father.”
“Right.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just sat with R for an hour in the warm sun. R offered no more information, and Malakai didn’t offer any kind of comfort. But there was something about him being there, which was enough.
He stayed with R until someone came to find him. He gathered up the logs and stood. Before he left, he hesitated before saying, “This probably doesn’t help but your dad’s kind of a dick.”
R scoffed, the tears long since dried on his cheeks. “Yeah, I know.
Malakai grinned at him for a moment.
It was a genuine smile; the first one R had seen from him. And R was pretty sure that if he’d been standing, it would have knocked him off his feet.
A week later, R was squished in a broom closet with Malakai.
R had been again escaping a few of the angrier Collectors when he rounded a corner right into Malakai. Malakai had been getting a mop out of the closet. R, Malakai and the mop crashed together into the small closet. R had hauled the door closed behind them.
Now they were standing chest to chest with walls at their back. Darkness surrounded them, and R’s heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest. Except for the sounds of their breaths, they were silent. They’d never been this close to each other. He could feel the warmth from Malakai’s breath curling around his face.
Enough light spilled around the edges of the door that R could make out every crease in Malakai’s lips, which was so unbelievably unhelpful. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. That felt much safer.
Or maybe not. Because now Malakai’s breath was spilling across his neck and that was a whole other level of intimate.
The sounds of thundering steps came from outside the closet.
Once they’d passed, R let his head come back down and slid towards the door. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Malakai’s hand shot out and wrapped around R’s arm. “What if they double back?”
They never did, but R didn’t tell Malakai that.
He settled back where he’d been. This time, instead of looking at the ceiling, he watched Malakai, who watched him back. Malakai whispered, “What is it about you?”
R blinked. What was he supposed to say to that? “I don’t know.”
Malakai cocked his head. “Strange.”
R frowned. Should he be offended? He wasn’t sure. “I’m strange?” he asked to fulfil his own self-destructive curiosity. Or maybe he was hoping Malakai would insist that he wasn’t strange, that he was actually wonderful and amazing and—
“A little.” Malakai’s mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Surprising might be a better description.”
“Okay,” R said, desperately pretending that he knew what was going on.
“Have you ever kissed anyone?”
R blinked. He was getting whiplash from this conversation. His mind flashed back to the awkward fumbling kiss he’d had with a different Collector a year ago. His father had been livid, ranted for days about the whole thing. If Rumpelstiltskin didn’t want him to be with a Collector then R needed to meet boys his own age outside of the Chateau. But he never left this prison. R swallowed. “I have.”
Now that Malakai had brought up kissing, R couldn’t stop his mind from wandering there. What would it be like to kiss Malakai? What did his lips feel like? No doubt better than R’s first kiss. His anticipation grew as the silence did.
Malakai lowered his head and for a wild second, R was certain he was about to be kissed.
But no. Malakai nodded. He cracked open the door and stepped out of their dark sarcophagus. R followed behind him, the heavy weight of disappointment settling low in his stomach.
R had tried to sit with Malakai at dinner.
That had failed miserably. Malakai talked very little and focused on his food. R was disappointed, but admittedly, there was part of him that was half relieved.
It was a bad idea to spend time with Malakai. At best, it would make his father angry. At worst, his father would use their familiarity as a weapon to cut them both down.
R hadn’t been able to resist Malakai’s magnetism after being so close together. He couldn’t help his thoughts of what if?
The night after the attempted dinner, R was sorting through his calligraphy inks. He had bought some new shades of red and purple and the current box he kept them in was now too small. He was trying to arrange them as best he could for now. Tomorrow he’d go to the basement and see what he could find to replace this one.
There was a knock. R straightened and frowned. Who would that even be? His father never came to his room.
R opened the door and barely kept his jaw from dropping open at the sight of Malakai at his door.
Malakai slipped inside without being invited. He stood in the middle of the room looking lost about what to do next. But even standing awkwardly in someone else’s room, he managed to look cooler than R ever had.
Thus, a new ritual was born. Every night after dinner, Malakai would show up at R’s door. They would talk about anything and everything for an hour, after which Malakai disappeared again. Malakai talked about his life before this and the world he came from. R recounted stories from his childhood, exploring the many nooks and crannies of the Chateau. He shared the stories he used to make up when he was younger.
Over and over there were quiet charged moments between them. R would hope fiercely that Malakai would kiss him, and Malakai never did.
As they lay next to each other one night, R looked over. Malakai looked back, his hair falling in his eyes a little. That charge grew again, and R already knew Malakai would be the one to break it. He always was.
All at once, it occurred to R that maybe Malakai wanted to kiss R just as badly and was just as scared. The thought bounced around R’s bruised brain as he tried to comprehend it. Could it be true?
Maybe Malakai wanted something he didn’t know how to ask for.
R’s mind cast him back to when the two of them were chest to chest in the darkness of the broom closet. “Have you kissed anyone before?” R parroted Malakai’s question back to him.
“Yes.” Malakai studied him for a long moment. “No one I really liked, though.”
For once in his life, R didn’t let himself overthink it. He wanted to kiss Malakai. And he thought, maybe Malakai wanted to kiss him too.
He twisted onto his side and leaned in. Their lips touched, cautious and gentle at first. Then Malakai surged up and rolled them so that R was underneath him and caged in Malakai’s arms.
After a head spinning moment, they separated and R asked shakily, “And now?” Both hope and dread circled his chest, ready to pounce.
Malakai said breathlessly, “Now I have.” He leaned in, kissing R with so much determination it made R want to shatter into a million pieces. For a while, all they knew was each other and bliss.
