A/N: Slight one-sided N/C (possibly reciprocated) but mostly just Charles and his boys.
I didn't need to look at the clock to know what time it was. I'd been through this enough times to already know. It was 4:14 in the morning, it always was. I don't know why. The number never seemed significant before this but now it was a constant. I'd tried to rid myself of the habit. Telling myself that there was no use getting up to check on something that I knew was fine. Especially when they weren't even here. It was useless.
I had a compulsion. The goddamned boys had given me a compulsion. Sometimes I tried so hard to fight it down. I wouldn't look at the clock, I wouldn't open my eyes, I wouldn't acknowledge being awake. It didn't work, never did. Sometimes I was so exhausted I didn't even try to fight it. I got up and I checked the rooms as robotically and quickly as possible. It wasn't special that night though. The boys had been gone so I could get my work done at reasonable hours for once and I didn't tell myself to fight it.
I stepped into slippers and tied my robe shut, neglecting the glasses on my bedside table. Since I had, ah…returned they were unnecessary but I kept them on because I knew how poorly the boys reacted to change. I didn't use the hallways that were regularly patrolled. I made it very clear to the Klokateers that they were not to discuss or acknowledge my nighttime activities but I wasn't going to make it easy either.
Toki's room was always the one I checked first. He was always asleep first. He—I needed the reassurance the most. Toki was the baby, in every sense of the word. The way we treated him was different from the rest of the boys, he had a different set of rules. Toki was either fast asleep or still out whenever I went to check on him. It meant that his room hardly changed whether he was in there or not. The only thing noticeably different was the lack of 'Deddy.' His bed was haphazardly made up like if I got close enough I might discover him still sleeping there and a half-finished model plane was sitting on his desk undisturbed. I took a tentative step inside and then breezed out again. Everything looked right.
Muderface was next. He was needy, not as much as Toki but close. I never spent long in his room. He was very, ah…particular about his things, very whiny too. He had unusual sleeping habits and he was never very happy should he catch me in his room. I always made my visits there the shortest. I gave the room a quick once-over, everything was in place and his bed was empty as it should be. I didn't attempt to go in, it was quite dark and Murderface's 'toys' were quite sharp.
Skwisgaar was next, simply out of proximity. That and his bedmates were usually asleep or off of the premises by the time I got there. If the Swede was still awake when I got there he regarded me somewhat disdainfully but mostly ignored me. He wasn't there that night, obviously. I would be able to tell from my distance if he was. He snored—loudly but not unpleasantly. It was kind of endearing, really. His room was in order, unusually neat but normal. My sleeve caught on a guitar stand on my way out. I thought about leaving it slightly tilted as some sort reminder that I always checked on my boys but I fixed it before leaving anyway. The fact that I checked on the boys wasn't really a secret. The fact that I did it even when I knew they were gone, the fact that it was a compulsion, was my little secret.
Pickles probably should've been last. He was exceptionally good at taking care of himself despite his, ah…unique and often destructive penchants. Maybe it was age. I always checked on him second to last, however, due entirely to personal preference. His sleep schedule was impossible to track. Sometimes he had been passed out for hours by the time I got there, sometimes he was half-conscious and mumbling nonsense, and sometimes he was wide awake. If he was awake, his behavior was entirely impossible to predict. I liked it best when he greeted me with a lazy smile and an even slower 'chief.' It made me feel like a part of the boys instead of like their babysitter. I also liked seeing him quietly wrapped around whatever groupie or supermodel he was sharing his bed with that night. Other times he was overly affectionate, acknowledging me with surprisingly crushing hugs and babbling about how much he appreciates me. I should've enjoyed it but it made my skin crawl for some reason I could never place. Other times he was irrationally angry, screaming at me to get out of his room. None of it mattered apparently, Pickles either didn't remember any of our interactions or pretended that he didn't. His room was mostly empty as it normally was, the only thing that was different was the absence of the usual awful smell that followed him.
Between Pickles' and Nathan's room I often used a main hallway because I was too tired to bother with hiding. I passed by a Klokateer on my way to Nathan's. He paused and bowed his head a bit. "Lord Ofdensen?"
I nodded at him, hardly acknowledging him. I fought down the urge to ask for a headcount on the boys. That was my secret. I seemed to have a sixth sense for the boys because I always wanted to check on them. There was not a moment in the day when I wasn't either looking at the boys or consumed by the desire to ask their whereabouts. I shoved that back down to a manageable level though, I didn't feel the true, unsettling fear that made me actually inquire about the boys.
I walked into Nathan's room with a sigh of relief. His room was comforting. He was always asleep by the time I got there. I couldn't wake him up if I tried, Nathan slept like a bear…I guess Nathan did a lot of things like a bear. The comically large bed that dominated the room was empty. It always seemed a bit ridiculous for the bed to be so big with how little time he actually spent in it but when did I ever question my boys? I slipped into the bed that even dwarfed the giant of a man that was Nathan Explosion. It was less pleasant like this—cold and devoid of anything that would really remind me of him. It didn't even smell like him anymore, it made it feel like the boys had been gone too long. But I still slept there because, at least now, it was more appealing than my own bed.
I curled around one of his pillows, trying to enjoy the last few hours of sleep I'd get, still desperately trying to shove down the desire to actually go check on the boys. I should've gone with them. They were only gone for a few days and it gave me uninterrupted time to catch up on all the paperwork they left me but the empty bed I was laying in convinced me otherwise. Nine months was too long to be away from my boys. It almost killed me. And quiet days in an empty Mordhaus only served to further remind me of it.