Notes: This is a rather dark look at Franken Stein's youth—his pre-Shibusen years. Nothing graphic, probably, but the rating may go up when finished.
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater; Franken Stein does not belong to me.
One Night
By Ryo Hoshi
Panel 1: First Night
Fraken Stein was shipped off the a boarding school the instant he was old enough to go. His parents had never really had time for their son; he got the feeling that his life had come about purely because they had felt obligated. They treated him like he was just another of their lab animals, and not the most interesting one either.
He tugged a little at his clothes nervously. He'd learned to sew early on, out of necessity. At least his parents' habit of giving him clothes far too large for him meant that, when he cut them to nearer the right size, he could save the scraps for patches when his clothes got worn. Still, he knew that the end result—complete with his still-clumsy stitches, in whatever thread he'd been able to scrounge up—meant that he looked even more exotic and waifish than his ragged white hair did.
Stein wasn't really prepared for the experience at all.
Quiet, innocent boys, who look weak and helpless and spend most of their time studying, draw bullies at all-boys boarding schools like bloody meat draws sharks. This wasn't helped in the least by his parents being efficient, and choosing one that had all grades in-house to save them from having to find a new school for their son.
The school may have had some awareness of how boys could be toward other boys, if left to themselves. The houses themselves were broken up into upper and lower levels; the lower level was almost exclusively the younger boys, though both halls were under the supervision of a prefect drawn from the older boys.
The one who was in charge of Stein's hall—which was merely rows of beds with space for a trunk or locker at the foot of the bed—was a handsome blond with ambition and an ego deserving of small-caps. He never did learn the boy's exact age, and while Stein vaguely remembered being told the boy's real name once, all the boys called him 'Adonias,' and 'Master Adonias' when adults weren't present. Adonias insisted, and punished boys who disobeyed.
The name was not undeserved. He had the sort of looks that drew the attention of teenage girls and homosexually-inclined men everywhere—and he knew it.
Adonias's preference, though, was for power, not sex. Few realized quite how the handsome boy lusted after power, and for the adoration he felt he deserved for being handsome and powerful. He had met his one true love young: himself.
Putting him in charge of a group of younger boys' with only token supervision was almost like putting a wolf in charge of a herd of sheep.
It was probably natural, then, that when he surveyed his charges, the one that he was immediately drawn to was Stein, who was standing near the door to Adonias's domain, looking like an innocent young lamb.
Stein smiled shyly at the older boy when he approached. Cynicism would come later for him, with the scars. For now, he was merely a waif who had suffered only from benign neglect. To him, the very idea of the possibility that the older boy might not have his best intentions in mind was, for now, unthinkable.
It was satisfyingly easy for Adonias to get the younger boy to agree to share his bed that night.
The white-haired boy was so trusting that somebody else might have felt guilty.
Adonias simply felt pleased, taking pleasure in having dominated the pretty younger boy.
Stein didn't even realize what the older boy had done to him. Yes, he realized it had hurt, but... It would only be later that he'd even start to put together the pieces, and realized how wrong it had been and learn that there was a specific name for what the older boy had done.
Next Panel: Carnival Night
