Deep Dish is NOT a Pizza

Presumably, the sun had long since fallen below the horizon. It was hard to tell sometimes, being underground most of the time. While the likes of Professor Faloux and the Director were free to leave by the end of the day’s work, people like Raian and Unali didn’t have that luxury, and would often lose track of the day, left completely unaware of whether the sun was up or not.

Clocks helped a lot, but only so much.

The rooms in this facility were generally quite bleak, but this one was different.

Cold, uninspiring tiles were largely covered by a random mismatch of colourful rugs overlapping each other with no consideration to the layout of the room. Scratched up bookshelves lined the walls, adorned with a baffling arrangement of knick-knacks, baubles, trinkets, and the odd book that everyone and their mothers knew that Mochi would never read.

A surprising amount of these objects were just cool rocks Mochi had found in the few times he had been outside. Raian felt a little bit of pride in knowing that a good amount of the assortment in this room was provided by him – he didn’t quite get why the boy kept an empty bottle Raian had drunk out of on their last excursion, but it’s not like he could complain.

Then, sitting very out of place, there was a single 40mm shell from an autocannon meant to shoot down dragons. A bit out of left field from Unali, but at least Mochi found it interesting. There were also a small handful of teeth from God’s Wound sitting in a neat little pile on the oak shelf.

Mochi didn’t dare touch them anymore after cutting his fingers more than a few times.

Covering a great deal of the wall just right of the door leading out was a mirror spanning the entire length of the window it was slotted into. Many rooms had this, in fact. It existed as a one-way mirror to an observation chamber.

Both Raian and Mochi had gripes about the lack of privacy, but there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done about it. At least the built-in bathroom this room had didn’t have such invasive windows.

A once-dull bed, now spiced up with throws, cushions, blankets, and whatever else Mochi found comfy, held the squid and his handler quite steadily as they both sat with their backs against the wall.

Food quality for the Aberrants was generally seen as not a priority, but with a few carefully placed handshakes containing a bit of cash, that changed for Mochi. Raian made sure the boy got food that wasn’t utter slop, and he doubly made sure he got his share too.

Even Faloux would be impressed by the arrangement. The handler was pleasantly surprised that the cooks took his request to fulfil the professor’s suggestion, but that aside, he took the moment to savour the downtime as he closed his eyes, smiling and listening to the sound of Mochi crunching on a bit of cucumber.

His eyes jolted awake as he felt something graze his lips, looking down to see Mochi offering a sliced piece of carrot.

“Tired?” the boy asked inquisitively.

“No, no,” he took the offering, crunching on it moments after, “just… relaxed.”

A smile formed on the squid’s lips. Setting his mostly clean plate off to the side, Mochi shuffled about on his knees to face his handler directly. There was quite a racket of the bed springs, but it became background noise to them after a while.

“Can you tell me about pizza?” he asked.

The man’s gaze wandered to the ceiling, setting his own tray upon the bedside table as he collected his thoughts.

“In its simplest form it’s this flat circle of bread baked with sauce and cheese… lots of different toppings too to choose from.” Raian began, motioning a circle with his fingers, “There’s also lots of different variations of pizza too which, ah… has been a point of contention over the years.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah! Entire wars have started over it, historically at least. There’s some classics like the pizzas from Mangione – very popular with the common people. Then there’s Vedelian, which, personally, my favourite.”

The squid hummed along, pretending to know all the words coming out of his handler’s mouth, but eyes still full of awe regardless.

“There’s also deep dish but… no matter what Unali tells you, it’s not pizza.” Raian said sternly.

“Uh-huh.” Mochi nodded, continuing the façade.

“If they tell you it’s pizza, you kick them in the shins and run.”

“What makes it not pizza?”

“Okay so—” Raian halted his words, knowing it would get him worked up as he bit his cheek, “You know what, never mind. Unali would probably hear me and try to beat me up again.”

A light laugh escaped Mochi; he was just happy to hear him talk this much.

Raian shuffled upon the bed, reaching for a clipboard sitting upon the edge of a bedside table. The man flipped through the papers with a slight lowering of his brow, muttering incomprehensibly as he read from the sheets.

“Hm, it’s feeding day again…”

“Again? We did it the other day though.” A hint of worry laced the boy’s words.

Raian’s eyes scanned the sheets again.

“We did, yeah,” his tone matched the confusion in Mochi’s voice, “maybe they want to up the frequency to see what happens.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” the squid leaned closer, watching his handler roll up his sleeves.

While it did leave him lightheaded for a while after, he’d rather it be him than the boy. There haven’t been any recorded cases of vampirism for several millennia now, which makes Mochi possibly the first of his kind in a very long time.

Whatever went into making him, it made the consumption of blood mandatory.

He really put the vampire in vampire squid, Raian figured.

“I’ll be fine, it’s you that needs it after all.” The man spoke softly, giving a reassuring smile, leaning forward to pull a set of wheeled curtains to obscure them from view.

They were originally meant for surgery, but needs must, and the man hijacked them.

Raian adjusted himself to be a bit more comfortable, sliding a pillow about his back knowing he wouldn’t be moving for a while. The squid assumed the position, climbing across the softness of the mattress to seat himself comfortably between his handler’s legs.

He always wound up surprised by how warm Mochi was. It was the kind of warmth he never wanted to let go of, even if he did wiggle a little bit too much.

The warm lights of this rather personal room hummed away as the two listened intently to the diminishing crowd outside the door.

It was about that time where the handlers would collectively leave their posts to go drink and gamble for the next hour or so – some even accompanied by their Aberrants, and thus, this particular pair waited for those voices to leave until it all became a few sparse footsteps.

The moment they both felt comfortable enough, Raian raised his right arm to the boy, laden in that same black sleeve.

Pink fingers dug under the hem of the fabric, carefully rolling it down to his wrist, easing it off him until he got exactly what he wanted, and those same fingers traced the brown smoothness of Raian’s skin.

Raian kept his arms clean shaven quite regularly, half done so the boy had a bit of an easier time with the texture, knowing full well that textures were a big thing for him.

The other half of the reason for doing such a thing was so that he wouldn’t shout about how he’s got his hair stuck between his teeth in front of Miss Evans again.

She still gives him weird looks for that.

Mochi always tried to bite in similar spots, or at least alternate so scarring wouldn’t be too much of an issue, but despite how scarred the man already was, he still did his best to keep it isolated.

The squid asked quite regularly how he got those wounds to begin with, but his handler gave a different story each time.

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” the squid asked, ever doubtful of his handler’s words.

“No, you’re perfectly fine.”

The truth is it did, quite a bit in fact. But he’d never tell him that.

There was a part of Raian that found joy in the fact that this was all Mochi wanted.

He was the only one Mochi wanted to sink his teeth into. Others certainly tried to offer, but the squid always refused.

In turn, Raian was the only one who knew what his tongue felt like. Every little bump, every detail, how smooth it was, and he would take it all to the grave.

Only Raian would ever know just how soft his lips are.

To the likes of Mochi, every person’s blood is different. Every individual has a different flavour profile. And while initially being provided with dozens of different options a month in the form of blood bags, the variation was both disorienting and harsh.

Raian still remembers what Mochi said about how he tastes. The squid described it akin to a warm vanilla ice cream with a hint of spice to it.

It was warming, sweet, satisfying, fulfilling.

The handler let his head rest comfortably against the back of Mochi’s, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of the squid’s breath wash over his skin.

In the darkness, Raian’s body and mind ran rampant. He was sure the squid could feel how loud his heart thundered against his ribcage.

And then, all those things Raian cherished came crashing in like a wave as the boy latched on.

There was a sharp scratch, and an even sharper inhale. There always is. It did hurt a bit, but Raian got used to it after a while.

At this moment, the two of them were glad that they were alone. The screens provided enough cover so that, for now, they felt as if they were in their own little world.

The pounding of his heart likely did well to aid in the flow of blood, much to the boy’s elation.

Raian curled his one free arm about Mochi’s waist, pulling him in closer as his fangs dug deeper than usual. He focused on the squid’s breathing, noticing he was picking up the pace quite a bit.

Focus was exactly what he needed right now. Intrusive thoughts gnawed at the edges of his sanity. He couldn’t think of this anymore than just providing a service for a friend.

He’d tell himself it was all for a good reason, again and again. Never mind this addicting warmth that, at this point, he couldn’t tell whether it was from him or Mochi.

He was a scientist, first and foremost.

He fixated on the flow of crimson, how his tongue made sure every drop went exactly where it needed to go. He focused on the little details to keep him sane. It never used to be this difficult, so what changed? It’s not like the man wasn’t used to pain, but this was… different.

“Raian?” a soothing, familiar voice called out to him.

His eyes fluttered awake, unsure of whether or not he dozed off.

“Hmm?” the man mumbled.

“I’m done.”

“Already?”

“I’ve been done for a little while.” He spoke softly.

Raian gave a sigh of relief, finally unclenching his fists, letting the length of his arm relax into Mochi’s hands as he opened his mouth to say something.

Instead, a sudden jolt of pain and something else that Raian couldn’t quite identify shot through his body, and the convulsive sensation of the squid’s tongue running across his skin slammed into his already fragile mind.

The boy did his best to clean up, opting to lap up a rogue droplet of crimson fluid that escaped his lips.

While the handler remained perfectly still, in his mind, he was in the process of ramming his head against a solid wall.

“Aha… a little warning before you do that, next time, please.” He said, struggling to not strain himself.

“Sorry.” The squid gripped his finger tighter about Raian’s arm.

Raian cleared his throat and swallowed. He hoped the boy had gotten his fill, at least.

“I should get cleaned up… if you’re done, I mean.”

Mochi clutched the man’s arm closer to his chest the moment he tried to move, much to the latter’s confusion.

“Can we…” the Aberrant lowered his head, the twitchiness of his tendrils becoming apparent, “can we just stay like this a bit longer, please?”

The sudden thrum in his chest was certainly loud enough for Mochi to feel, possibly even hear. There wasn’t a single wound the man wouldn’t immediately tend to, but just this once, maybe he can ignore that.

He didn’t need to respond. There were no words he could possibly think of at this moment.

All he had to do was wrap his arms around him as tightly as he felt was comfortable and pray that nobody was watching.