Chapter Text
The island is a prison. And Cell knows prisons.
There are the wardens: the mysterious blank-faced bear things with guns and clipboards that follow the prisoners around asking questions and watching.
There are the prisoners: the idiots trapped on an island paradise and seemingly unwilling to try and escape.
There are the cells: buildings and statues and neighborhoods that the prisoners were allowed to make themselves that have security cameras watching every entrance and exit that the prisoners don't seem to know-slash-care about.
So. Prison.
"Pai? Why are you staring at Mister Roier like that?"
Prison. With children.
"Don't call me that," Cell snaps. "And he likes it, that's why. Go somewhere else."
The kid- assigned by the faceless overlords- just smiles cheekily in response. He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks onto his heels, head tilting slightly.
"Pais Tazer e Craft said I'm not supposed to talk to you," Richarlyson innocently says. His eyes are hidden behind his curls, but Cell can imagine that they're glittering mischievously.
Now, Cell knows that the kid is an evil genius. Like recognizes like: Cell doesn't remember much from his childhood, but he remembers looking at himself in a puddle of blood one morning after breakfast and seeing a smile that he recognizes now every time that he and Richarlyson see each other.
Richarlyson is a master manipulator. He's not even ten years old, but he can already poke and prod his government-assigned parents into doing what he wants. He hides behind childhood innocence and sweet smiles and sweeter words, but he's also a little asshole.
Of course, Roier adores him.
Of course, Cell doesn't want anything to do with him.
But what he does want is whatever Pac and Mike don't want, so he scowls and shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away.
Content, Richarlyson plops onto the grass and props his chin up in the palms of his hands. He watches Roier just as Cell was doing a moment ago, which is bound to make Roier fucking ecstatic.
Or, well, it would if Roier knew that the two of them were there watching him.
Since arriving on the island a week ago, Roier has managed to find himself an entirely new little family. He squeezed into their relationship like a strangler fig, and Jaiden and Bobby accepted him with open arms.
("Friendship", apparently. That's the thing the prisoners care about the most besides their artificially-created government spawn.
Friendship, and communication.
Idealists. Idiots.)
Roier has moved in with Jaiden and Bobby. He's decided that he's Bobby's father. He's decided that Cell is Bobby's other father, and he got Cell to agree with a knife subtly poking into his side.
Cell, meanwhile, lives in a cave. It reminds him too much of the island- the other island, not this one, but it's also natural, and the wardens don't know where it is. He's searched the area a dozen times over by now: no cameras.
One day, if he and Roier are stuck here long enough, he'll hollow it out by hand. He needs a place to keep his tools. He needs a place to hide his bed so nobody can destroy it.
He needs a place to torture Pac and Mike and teach him what real friendship looks like. Roier will be by his side, and they'll show them.
Cell doesn't miss Roier, though.
At all.
They spent three weeks practically together in the Brazilian countryside, and Roier is annoying, and Cell has had enough of him.
Entirely.
Roier is the only person besides Cell to know where the cave is. And he'll be the only one there when Cell shows Pac and Mike a real partnership. Because he and Roier are partners.
That's it.
(When introducing themselves to the other prisoners, this is how they did it:
Roier: Hola, hola! My name is Roier, I am Mexican, and I am engaged to Cell!
Cell: You can call me Cell, and I'm going to kill every one of you someday.
Roier: [Glares at Cell pointedly.]
Cell: [Sighing] And Roier and I are partners.)
Cell definitely isn't just annoyed that Roier decided to go and live with two strangers and not him.
That would be ridiculous.
Today, Roier is working on the garden with Bobby, and Cell is watching him from a hilltop a fair distance away. Jaiden is asleep. (She'd be asleep forever if Cell had anything to say about it, but that would make Roier upset. So.)
Roier glows in the sunlight. With proper access to a shower and shampoo and skincare, he's positively ethereal. His nails are freshly painted. His eyeliner is meticulous. His hair looks soft.
Richarlyson cocks his head in his hands to look up at Cell.
"Why don't you just... go hang out with him? Aren't you guys getting married?"
Cell's scowl only deepens. "Do you see a ring on either of our hands?"
There aren't any. Roier hasn't gotten any, and Cell sure as hell isn't about to start begging the wardens for silver and gold like the other prisoners would. He has dignity. He'll just dig up the materials himself and make them into rings. Somehow.
He scuffs the toe of his boot against the grass, kicking up some into the air.
"Besides," he says, voice softer despite his attempts to remain objective, "he's busy with his kid."
Roier had mentioned once that he had a child. His asshole (piece of shit bastard motherfucker evil-) ex killed the kid, and Roier killed the ex.
Cell doesn't know how old Roier's kid was when it died, but Roier seems to be doing just fine with ten-year-old Bobby. It's like he was born to be a parent, he's just so kind. He's gentle. He teases Bobby, and he teases the other brats on the island, but he doesn't go out of his way to hurt them.
Roier's smile when he's around kids is entirely different than it is when he's around Cell. His eyes are different, they're... they're just different.
"You're literally also Bobby's dad," Richarlyson dryly responds.
He pauses, and then he asks, "Wait, does that make me Bobby's brother?"
"No," is Cell's immediate response. "You aren't even my son."
"No, I am. Cucurucho says so."
"And I say you're not. You have Felps."
"And Pais Pac and Mike."
A foul taste fills Cell's mouth.
"See?" he says. "You already have plenty of parents. You don't need me."
"Maybe," Richarlyson acknowledges. He smiles, and Cell can't tell if he means it or not. "But I want you. You're cool!"
"I know that," Cell scoffs. "But you shouldn't be hanging around a killer, kid. None of the other kids will want to play with you."
"So what? They don't like me, anyway."
Ducking his head to look at the grass, Richarlyson starts tearing some of it up.
Cell winces. He... doesn't know how to deal with kids. It just isn't what he does. It's what Roier, does, but Roier is busy with his actual family now.
In the garden, Roier laughs. He drops a flower onto Bobby's head and ducks away playfully as Bobby swings his sword at him in retaliation.
(Roier's smile is beautiful. Cell doesn't know what beauty is anymore, but he knows this.)
During the war, BadBoyHalo once told Cell that he was too kind. He wouldn't survive that way, and he almost didn't. He didn't start winning battles until he started being mean, and he's been mean ever since. That's simply how the world works.
Cell rolls his eyes up towards the sky. With a grumble, he settles onto the grass next to Richarlyson.
"You're too young to be depressed," Cell says. "So stop that. If the other brats don't want to talk to you, then don't talk to them. They're assholes. Fuck 'em."
Richarlyson frowns. "But that's mean. I want to be their friend."
"And they don't want to be yours. What are you going to do about it?"
Bobby is chasing Roier around the garden, now. Cell loves watching Roier move, he's so... wow with everything he does: long limbs, muscles. Wow.
Richarlyson doesn't say anything for a moment, so Cell takes the silence as an opportunity to keep watching Roier. He wasn't lying earlier, Roier loves to be watched. He practically begs Cell to do it, and Cell is happy enough to play along.
(Sure, Roier hasn't moved in with him, and he hasn't gotten Cell a ring, and he hasn't really done much with Cell, but he wants to be stalked. Fucking freak.)
(Cell isn't much of a stalker, but he'll do it for Roier. He'd do anything for Roier, and isn't that a novel thought? This is a real partnership, fuck you, Pac and Mike.)
Eventually, Richarlyson lets the grass in his fingers fly into the wind.
"I'll make them be my friends?" he tries, looking to Cell for approval.
Cell shakes his head. "That doesn't work. I've tried, trust me. In prison, you have to force people to be your friends. Those relationships don't last. They'll stab you in the back at the first chance of an escape."
"Uuuuugh, then what?" Richarlyson groans. "They all hate me!"
"How do you know?"
"Uh, because they're all siblings and I'm not related to them? Duh?"
Wow, what a stupid kid. He really is Felps' son.
Sighing, Cell nudges Richarlyson's head with his hand. He maybe ruffles the kid's hair a little, but not purposefully.
"They don't know you, idiot," he explains. "How can you be friends if you're strangers? Have you even tried talking to them?"
"No. Because they hate me."
"They don't trust you. Big difference."
Looking right at Roier, Cell continues: "Trust is the most important part of any relationship. From trust comes honesty, and from honesty comes everything else. You need to prove to the other kids that they can trust you."
Richarlyson leans into Cell's touch, still frowning. "Okay, but how?"
Cell shrugs and yanks his hand away. "Hell if I know."
"You trust Mister Roier."
"He's- he's. Roier." Cell's heart twists fondly in his chest. "I don't even know how he did it."
"Oh," says Richarlyson. He smiles, then. "That's nice. You two really are partners, aren't you?"
Cell scoffs, "Of course we are."
"So that's why he's been staring at you for the past, like, five minutes."
"What?"
Cell blinks a few times, scrunches his eyebrows together.
Indeed, Roier is looking at him now. He's looking right at him, eyes glittering in the sun, smile so wide that his jaw has to be aching.
How did Cell not notice? Was he really so caught up with Richarlyson's kid drama? Ugh, he's getting weak. He needs to kill someone.
Roier waves a hand and shouts, "Gatinho!"
Cell raises his own hand in response. "Guapito."
"Come here! Bring our son with you!"
Richarlyson squirms happily at that.
"See?" he crows. "I am your son."
"Yeah, no," Cell huffs.
He stands, anyway, and he brushes the grass off of his pants.
He doesn't rush down the hill, not like Richarlyson does. He might run a little, and his heart might skip a beat as he gets closer, and his face might be fighting a smile, but he doesn't rush.
At all.
Roier meets him at the bottom of the hill with a hug so tight that Cell's lungs threaten to collapse inside of him.
"I missed you," Roier murmurs. "Don't leave me again."
Cell can't help it. He hugs Roier back just as tightly and grumbles, "Says the one ditching me to play house with some strangers. What do you mean, 'don't leave me again'?"
Roier gasps, and it sounds like he's going to cry for just a second.
But then he starts laughing, hard and loud.
"You're jealous!" he declares.
Cell feels himself flush red.
"No," he says, pushing himself out of Roier's grip and turning around entirely to face away from him. "I'm not."
But Roier just hugs him from behind, chin tucking itself right into the crook of Cell's neck.
"Thank you for watching me," he hums.
Cell grunts. For some reason, he can never speak properly around Roier. It's like his brain just shuts down, it's embarrassing.
He doesn't like being held from behind, though, so he grabs Roier's hands and turns back around. Roier, for whatever reason, twirls in Cell's loose hold like a ballerina.
"Wow," Richarlyson comments from somewhere out of sight and out of mind.
"Ew," Bobby agrees, equally ignorable.
Roier would look so good covered in blood right now, Cell thinks. Red is his color. Cell doesn't have a favorite color, but the closest thing he can think of would be the shade of red Roier's face always is when Cell is killing someone.
Leaning in close, Cell murmurs, "Screw the kids. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."
Roier's eyes light up. "Brazilian?"
Cell ponders. And then he shakes his head. "Not worth the trouble. I'm thinking... Mexican?"
His voice pitches up slightly, questioning.
"Mmm, Quackity, Mariana, or Missa's place?" Roier asks.
For whatever reason, Cell thinks back to a week ago when Quackity and Mariana and Slime had tried stealing Richarlyson away from him... and the others. Missa behaved, he's safe (today.)
Cell's arms find themselves draping over Roier's shoulders loosely. Their heads lean closer together until their foreheads are pressed against each other.
Roier's eyelashes are long and beautiful. He doesn't really use mascara, so it's all natural. He flutters them delicately as Cell thinks.
"Quackity," Cell eventually decides. He smiles crookedly. "Fast food."
Quackity is a fast runner; even Cell hadn't been able to catch up with him after the attempted kidnapping.
Roier's canines aren't as sharp as Cell's are, but he's still borderline vampiric. Wow.
Cell doesn't feel ready to kiss Roier yet- he's still working on speaking around him. But he still considers it as Roier looks up at him through his eyelashes.
One day, he thinks. What did Bad always say, "save it 'til marriage"? Cell can do that. He just needs to figure the rings out first.
"As you wish," Roier breathes.
The kids both groan and wander off to do their own thing elsewhere, but Cell couldn't care less. They aren't his, no matter what Roier says.
And they never will be.