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The clock sputtered, afraid to tick time.

Its hands ran spirals till they were cast out for an overt attempt to rip the fabric of time.

Now, they lay pathetically among the glass shards of their fate. Oblivious to the similarities they share with their master.

Mai hears it all as each sound beats against her eardrums, a music unknown to Varna.

Memories flood Mai as she remembers the day of Varna's birth.

The doorknob twists on its own accord as the visitor grows impatient. Its once pristine metal pimpled with rust, groaning in protest when thinned out of its lazy disobedience.

A man with tousled black hair curled at the edges with their ends highlighted purple walks in with doleful strides. Varna raked his gaze from top to bottom on his leather outfit embossed with metal chains, his hair fall past his slightly bushy eyebrows, onto his intense eyes adorned with chocolate brown irises. The man passes him a smirk as he moves to pick up the metal chair lying by the nearby wall. The man rests his razor jaw on the chair's back, his thumb gliding over thin, pink lips.

Varna decides that he looks pretty. And he, like everyone his age, has a thing for pretty, tall boys with a little bit of attitude.

"Ogling's illegal." The man remarks cockily, clearly looking down at Varna.

Varna scoffs despite open attempts to savour the beauty. "Are you here for a job interview? Look we understand the employment rates are bleak, but please stop breaking the doors. You'll pay for that, by the way."

The man's jaw drops, clearly irked by the insouciance.

"Where is the fang I gave you?" he growls out.

Varna blinked, confusion clouding his thoughts. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you some kind of con artist?"

Mai stepped forward, her voice trembling. "I have it," she said quietly, almost apologetically. "I'll give it to you, but please,"she begs, "don't hurt him."

For Mai, it is the unfortunate night that is replaying once again.

No, please don't do anything to him.

I won't, not now.

"Now, now, please don't be afraid Mai," the man cooes.

The man is the epitome of all grief that has ever shielded Mai in its embrace. Her daughter's shrieks are splinters still rubbing against her brittle bones.

"Varna isn't eighteen yet. Please." She begs, rubs the palms of her hands together, pleading for her grandson's life. "You can't take him yet."

"Wait!" Varna finally interjects. "What are you saying Mai? He is definitely some thief barging into our home." He turns to the man. "Who the hell are you, and why are you in our house? We don't have what you're looking for."

The man grits his teeth, particularly annoyed at the turn of events.

"You have the glove. You woke up to it this morning. And don't deny it, Mira is my eyes in this world. The prophecy is set."

Mai's breath hitched. "Please... he's not ready. I've kept him safe all these years. He doesn't know what he's being asked to do."

Varna freezes but spouts nonetheless, "what do you mean this world? Who is this spy of yours, Mira?"

"Look, boy, you and I don't have enough time. We have things to do, so come with me with that glove and fang."

Fear overtakes Mai, runs like a newfound drug in her veins and washed ashore, she falls on her butt. "N-no, please don't. He is the only one I have. Please. Take the glove and the fang."

"Wait, what, Mai. Who is he to take anything from us? I'll protect you. Both of us."

Mai has by now realised that the boy has no survival instinct.

Within a moment, the boy is spouting his nonsense again. "Look, lad, I'm sure whatever world" he air quotes, "you're from is kind enough, but ours isn't. So stop stealing from the already deprived and take your spy off my back."

A cat, meanwhile, comes and sits on Varna's shoulder with a purr.

The man rubs his temple. "Look, boy, it is time you become a colour reaper and stay by my side. It is the order preordained by Achala," he finally speaks.

Mai hisses, "Stop dragging the benevolent soul into your dirt. He would never preordain any misery onto his beloved children. My Varna would never be a colour reaper; it isn't his destiny. He has the right to choose."

Varna's confusion deepened, "What are you talking about? I'm not some reaper, colour or otherwise. I don't even know what that means!"

The man smiles conspiratorily at Varna. "Say Varna, doesn't the night call you like your mother's arms?"

Speechless, he looks at the cat for assurance and nods.

"Then, the boy has decided he will be a colour reaper."

"No!" Mai protests, "The boy doesn't know what he is saying. He is only a minor, he can't choose. He doesn't know his lefts from rights."

Offended, Varna opens his mouth in retaliation.

"Come now boy. Fast! Pack the fang and the glove. You'll join the academy and become a colour reaper." The man declares as he ignores Mai's incessant pleas and protests.

"I'm not coming with anyone." Varna grits out. "Who are you to take me and why are you really here?"

"Your Saaya." The man finally answers.

In the next second, he takes a step towards Varna. Mai, scared out of her wits at the sound of approaching footsteps, screams. It rips through Varna's heart and he stills like the hands of fate.  Fear keeps crawling into Mai even while everything else stills and clouds her brain like the skies hung in the embrace of countless eyes.

"Ogling is illegal. Shut your eyes before you regret it," Saaya drawls at the stilled frame of Varna.

Varna, being Varna, doesn't comply. He shoots daggers a mile a minute like a slow-brewed coffee that seeps into your system till you wake up to reality. The man, opposedly, laughs in a similar fashion to the flash of light that follows with a flick of his fingers.

Varna would seethe at the audacity if he hadn't felt the cloud slipping, yet not a muscle frees a twitch to shield him from the incoming impact. He shuts his eyes, only to open them when a warm embrace capes on his thighs and back. Saaya holds him with a warm smile, the feeling clutches Varna's heart at its mercy.

"Told you, ogling is illegal." He winks.

Varna squints in accusation, only to welcome another set of peels of laughter. His laughter rustles through Varna like autumn leaves. Unruly window panes clanking against his ribcage, making his heart thrum.

The man is different from what he was back at the hotel.

He could see the man's piny cone-like teeth now, how they gleamed under the shadows of empty corridors. The shallow creases at the eye corners, the bluntness of the nose and rose pink lips ring bells of familiarity. The man is attractive as he towers over Varna. In one swift motion, he flings his heart out the window lest the treacherous organ fails his master. One should never have a thing for pretty boys. They open the door of possibilities, and it is never good for young boys.

1,181 words

1300+1181=2,481 words

Soooo they've finally met and he is dragging Varna to the colour reaping's shoddy business.

ejhfkrhsgfuesgfkurefsyg I'm so excited!!

Also, I have two entries for my very first ONC.