A/N This chapter contains flashbacks of trauma topics such as sexual abuse and death. If any of this upsets you, you're welcome to skip the flashback which is marked in italics.
Fran sat uncomfortably on Mukuro's bed as Tsuna stepped into the room. Bel's screams had since stopped, and he hadn't heard much else from the bedroom. He didn't know what had happened; all he knew was that he was just glad he couldn't hear the other screaming anymore; he had never heard a sound that sent chills down his spine the way those horror-stricken cries had.
The teal-haired kid fidgeted before he spoke. "...Is Bel-senpai okay now...?"
Tsuna nodded. "He's sleeping. Squalo will sit with him for the rest of the night. Have you eaten your dinner?"
Fran shook his head. "Not hungry..."
The brunet didn't want to force the kid to eat, but Fran was as thin as a rake; surely if his eating habits were left unattended, he would become sick. "What if I find you something small to nibble on?"
The younger shook his head again as he repeated what he had just said. His voice sounded flat, but Tsuna could pick up the undertones of annoyance. "Not hungry."
Sawada sighed before he nodded. "Okay. Fran. Mukuro and Chrome are downstairs watching the TV, so if you'd rather sleep in their room, you'll need to talk to them. Otherwise Squalo will be sitting in your room so nothing will happen if you'd rather sleep in your own bed."
Fran closed his eyes, wishing Tsuna would stop talking; he only wanted to know if Bel was okay – not about anything else. "You talk too much, Tuna-Fish."
Tsuna's eyes widened at these words; did that kid just call him a tuna...? The kid hardly spoke to anyone and now he's started being bratty... Already he's spent too much time around Bel and had the blond's bad attitude rub off on him. He honestly didn't know how to reply to that as he didn't want to scold the boy, so he just sighed and turned around so he could leave the room.
Fran curled up on Mukuro's bed as he became lost in thought about Bel; he needed to see for himself if the other was okay because he couldn't just take Tsuna's word for it. He made his way to his own bedroom and pushed the door open, taking note of a small nightlight in the corner of the room he hadn't seen until now. It illuminated Bel's sleeping face, showing signs of distress even in unconsciousness. Squalo sat beside the bed on a chair, with his arms crossed against his chest as he stared out of the window.
"I'm going to bed." Fran didn't wait for Squalo to reply before he crossed to his side of the room and climbed into his bed; he honestly didn't care much for the long-haired man, and he wasn't going to admit any time soon that he was making up an excuse to be in the same room as Bel to keep an eye on the blond; he had already exerted too much of himself by asking Tsuna if his roommate was okay, and no one else needed to know that he was concerned.
Squalo nodded, despite not paying much attention to what the youngest had said; he was too busy worrying about Bel to care much about what Fran had to say because as much as he would deny it, he was quite fond of the self-proclaimed prince, and it was always stressful whenever Bel's trauma played up like this.
Fran curled up under his blankets and put his back to Squalo and Bel. He didn't know how long he had laid there for, but just as he had started drifting off into sleep, he was brought back to reality by a frightened mumble on the other side of the room. He listened closely, knowing it had come from Bel.
"No..." Bel made a pained moan. Fran could hear his body tossing and turning in bed, testimony to just how terrifying his nightmares were for him. "...Stop it... I... It hurts...!"
"Bel, it's just a dream." Squalo was speaking now, Fran could hear. "Relax. It's okay."
"It hurts! F-father... N-no more...!"
At these words, Fran wondered if he and Bel were truly similar; what he had been forced to do hadn't exactly hurt – it was just uncomfortable and hard to breathe – but whatever the blond had been through must have been much worse if the boy was like this. Could he even understand in the first place...?
Fran rolled around to look at Bel and found Squalo was now sitting on the bed beside the blond so that he could wipe at Bel's face with a handkerchief.
"Bel, it's just a dream," the gardener repeated. "You're safe here. You're safe."
From the shine of the nightlight, Fran could see tears trailing down Bel's face and staining the white material of the pillow beneath his head. The boy looked so distraught even in his sleep, and the teal-haired male couldn't help but feel pity; even he had never had nightmares like that.
Fran closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep; there was no point in him staying awake watching the other because there was nothing he could do about it anyway. He laid back down and pulled the blankets over his head as he tried to block out the sound of Bel crying. However, even in his dreams he was haunted by those agonised sounds, and his stomach churned at the knowledge that Bel had suffered more than he.
~~Bel~~
Just like countless times before, Bel's tiny eight-year-old body was trapped beneath his father's much larger one. He thrashed beneath the crushing weight and tried to use all of the strength he had as he pushed against the man's naked chest, but he was powerless; all he could do was scream and beg and cry as he felt agony overwhelm him.
"Stop it, Father!" Bel's scream echoed around the room, but he knew that if anyone could hear him, they didn't care to help him; he screamed all the time and no one had ever come to help him. He was hysterical when he felt his twin brother crawling onto the bed beside him, knowing that there was going to be more suffering than usual; his brother hated him just as much as their father did. "It hurts! I hate it! Please! Stop!"
Bel cried harder when a large hand slapped his face and left a red mark in its wake; he knew it was going to be another bruise for his collection, but what did it matter? The only two people who would see it were his brother and father because no one else ever saw him in the closet he lived in. He could feel Rasiel pressing his crotch against his face, and he braced himself for the act that always made him sick in the end
"You little slut," the man snarled as he wrapped a hand around the boy's throat. "I should kill you right now. It's your fault your mother died! You're a useless piece of shit that should never have been born!"
As Bel's thrashing increased once his oxygen was cut off, the sticky puddle he was laying in became wetter; the deep lacerations his father had inflicted upon him prior to this opened further, spilling out enough blood to make him feel like he was going to pass out.
Just when Bel felt like he couldn't take it anymore, he caught sight of the bloodied knife laying within arm's reach and waiting to be used on him again. He couldn't remember grabbing that knife, and he had no memory of what he had done with it – all he knew was that when the black haze disappeared, he was covered in the blood of his family as the two lay dead on the floor with stab wounds all over their bodies.
Bel's eyes widened behind his long bangs as he stared at the blood on his hands. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he cried loudly, and he reached up to grab at his head as he screamed louder than he ever had before when he became overwhelmed by the terror and confusion he should never have been forced to feel – but at the same time, he could feel almost joyful at what he had done, and knowing that never again would he have to suffer by their hands again.
The shock of what had happened drove Bel to pick the knife back up and join his family on the floor. Throughout the agony his body was going through, he still let out screams full of anguish as he started bringing the knife down on his brother's corpse, over and over and over again until there was nothing left. His thoughts were blurred, and he didn't know what was going through his head; all he knew was that, no matter how hard he tried, slicing through his own skin wasn't enough to stop himself from feeling those horrid touches on his fragile body.
c The last thing he remembered was the police coming to take him away from that bloodstained room.
Bel screamed as he shot upright in his bed. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his body shook in horror. All he could see was red. Red all over the walls, the bed – all over himself. There was blood everywhere, and if he looked hard enough, he was certain he could see the outlines of his family's body on the floor, as dead as the day he had killed them.
Squalo tried to lay his charge back down in the bed but Bel only screamed louder at the touch and shoved at the man, cowering away from all physical contact. He was barely conscious of the teal-haired child who was watching him from the bed opposite; all he knew was the terror.
Fran watched with tired eyes as Squalo struggled to lay Bel back down for a few minutes before he reached over onto the bedside table and grabbed a syringe that had been left there. His eyes widened as he watched the gardener inject the boy with the syringe, but he understood once he saw that Bel's struggles were weakening; he had been given something like that once when he was at the hospital after being taken away from his old home because he hadn't been able to relax properly. He watched as Bel finally collapsed back onto the bed in a weak, murmuring mess.
Squalo looked distressed as he pulled the covers back over the body. He ran his hand through blond hair and sighed; what he wouldn't do to be able to take away all of this boy's pain and suffering. He didn't stay for much longer; he waited until Bel had quietened down before he stood up and left the room; it always took a toll on his emotional health whenever things like this happened, and he knew he needed to look after himself, too.
Fran stared at the door for a few minutes before he stood up and tiptoed to Bel's quivering body. He said nothing as he climbed into the bed and curled up against the boy; he didn't know what had led to him doing this, but he had done it anyway. Bel gasped slightly as arms wrapped around him, and though he was tense at first, he soon relaxed into the hold; no one had ever held him like this before. In an exhausted tone, he whispered, "Froggy..."
Bel finally closed his eyes once he heard Fran's breathing even out, and he soon fell fast asleep in the arms of the child he didn't know if he trusted or not.