Nothing ever goes away.

The windows of the tavern were softly blurred as a pattering of rain came drifting over it, the dim light within casting long shadows across the floor. At the bar, the boy stood, silently sweeping the shards into a neat pile upon the wooden ground. He cast his glance over the broken glass, brushing a stray piece into the pile, and lifted his eyes to the broken girl sitting at one of the tables. Her eyes were silent, shut; thin, dark lines against the white of her skin. A serene sleep had taken her; lead her through the darkness, and into the light of dreams. She looked at peace, Tic thought, as he watched her sleeping form. A peace that was needed, both by her body and soul.

There was a grunt and Tic was pulled from his stare, looking into the impatient glance of the bartender. He cast his eyes down and swept the remainder of the shards into a pan, disposing of it quietly. The rainfall outside thickened, distorting the figures on the other side of the windows into blurry, dark shapes. Its pattering seemed to echo within the small walls of the tavern, the silence of those inside speaking louder than words. Thunder rumbled softly outside, lightning failing to accompany it.

When Tic finished sweeping the shards, the bartender called him to the bar, where he demonstrated the pouring and mixing of drinks. The pouring was simple; place a mug beneath the nozzle, pull the lever and let the beer flow. He showed him the different teas used, their strengths and their effects; the mixing of certain liquids, how to test taste by scent. Before long, Tic had mastered the creation of some simple drinks. The tasks were easy, and he worked silently, his eyes drifting to the sleeping girl every now and then.

The light of day had waned, fading into the blue darkness of dusk. Most of the tavern’s occupants had disappeared into the rain, leaving the tavern with their hoods far over their faces. The bartender had stopped cleaning mugs, standing and surveying his empty tavern with folded arms.

“When she wakes up,” he spoke to Tic, “you will teach her what you’ve learned.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “sir,” he added.

“The crowds come around this hour, and I don’t want to be serving them myself,” he added gruffly.

Tic nodded again, glancing to his empty surroundings. The pattering of soft rain had become almost violent, beating against the windows with an inclement force. Tic sighed softly, having been put to work washing the mugs the bartender had left behind. He looked to the door, as though expecting to see another Guardian suddenly barge in and take them away. But his stare strayed to the girl, and he thought differently.

They were a world apart from each other, yet she was only feet away. He wondered what she was dreaming, if she was. As he watched her, she seemed to stir. Her mouth moved; opening, closing. She might’ve muttered something, but Tic couldn’t hear. He suddenly wanted to reach out to her, ease her into a peaceful sleep once again. But the tavern’s door abruptly opened with a violent creak, and slammed shut, nearly shaking the walls of the tavern off its foundation.

The men who entered were not as quiet as the rest of the tavern; their footsteps were wet against the wooden floor, their chatter loud and boisterous. There were four of them, and three of them scraped the bottoms of stools along the floor and sat at the bar, seeming to have already had a few drinks that night. The fourth stood at the end of the bar’s counter. He pulled out a small, rolled up piece of white paper, struck a match against the table, and lit it. He breathed in; the smoke wisped out of his mouth in curls and puffs.

Tic’s eyes searched for the bartender. The man had disappeared somewhere within the tavern, unaware of his new customers. Tic was left to serve them alone. The boy put down the mug he was holding, and turned around to face the men, awaiting their orders. They didn’t seem to notice him, talking amongst themselves in slurred voices and laughs. When one of them finally lifted his eyes, he stared at the waiting Tic, as if questioning the boy’s purpose.

“You work here?” he muttered, eyeing Tic’s bloodied clothes.

Tic nodded. The man raised his brows for moment. “Your strongest drink, boy, and make it quick.”

Tic glanced for the bartender again. He hadn’t learned of this drink yet, his knowledge limited to simply beer and tea. He stood dumbly for a moment, and then spoke, his eyes still searching for the man.

“I’m sorry. The bartender will be with you in a..”

A sudden grip took a hold of the front of his shirt, pulling him forward and forcing his face frighteningly close to the man’s own. “I said,” the man breathed, his breath scented by thick fumes of alcohol, “make it quick.”

He pushed the boy away, who barely caught his balance by taking a quick grip onto the counter’s edge. It caught the attention of the other two sitting men, and they laughed drunkenly, guffawing behind their bearded faces. Tic looked frantically for any sign of the bartender, fetching mugs and placing them at the counter, intent on filling them with drink.

“These are empty,” one of the men spoke. “Where are our drinks?”

“I reckon he doesn’t even work here,” another said angrily.

“What’s a mess like you doing here, boy?”

“But, my friends,” said the smoking man suddenly. He wasn’t at the counter any longer. He was standing beside the table that Miraye slept at. “What’s a mess like this doing here..,” he said, reaching down to touch the girl’s head.