Silence fell.
"I tried to tell you all my problems, over and over again, and all you ever do is laugh, and laugh, and laugh," Akeidat paced around in a circle, their long tail gnashing around like a whip, "Hah-hah-hah! You're just being dramatic! Oh, don't be so silly! Hah-hah-hah! Everything I say is just a JOKE!"
They stomped their hoof, the sound clanging like a gong, "MAYBE the reason I don't TELL you anything is because you never listen! Nobody ever does!"
"Kei-" Madison reached out a paw to touch their shoulder, but the child jerked away.
"Don't TOUCH ME!" They hissed, clutching their paws close to their chest, "I don't- I know it's all a joke to you, like nothing I feel is real, but it's real to me!"
Akeidat tasted salt running down their cheeks. They should've stopped, was what their logic dictated; just brush it off and say it was nothing, like they always did, because the last thing they wanted was constantly being prodded and watched like a touch-pool urchin.
"I'm never good enough for anyone! No matter how much I try!"
But despite what their logic dictated, Akeidat couldn't stop talking. The words came out, unbidden, like a flood breaking through a dam they couldn't possibly hope to contain any longer.
"And now I'm- I'm too much of a- a freak for my classmates, I'm not trying hard enough for my parents, and I'm not even good at- at being a k-kid, according to you!" Akeidat jabbed their finger into Madison's torso, taking a kind of eerie satisfaction at seeing her step back, "Hah-hah-hah! I'm so useless! Look at me, the funny little jester, who can't do anything right! If you're so much better at being a kid than me, then maybe you should STAY LIKE THIS!"
Akeidat's voice was cracked by the end of their rant. They didn't want to be done. They wanted to conduct a live vivisection on themself and tear their guts out for all to see, messiness be damned, because this- this felt like they'd barely scratched the surface. They had so much more to say, but their traitorous tongue twisted into a knot, and Akeidat couldn't find the words, and they doubted their babysitter would even understand if they did ever manage to find the words.
And then their survival instinct caught up with them, and they realised what they'd just done.
Before Madison could get a chance to react, Akeidat quickly turned heel, sprinting as fast as they could into the darkness.
They didn't know how long they ran, or how far. Far enough that they couldn't see Madison in the horizon behind them, at least. Even when their chest ached, and their legs felt as brittle as sand, Akeidat kept running. They ran, and ran, and ran, and Akeidat's hoofsteps grew wobblier and wobblier.
Until, at some point, Akeidat collapsed, knees-first, on the ground; too cold and exhausted to continue. Frustrated, they cried.
This was it. They were going to die. There was no going back from this. They'd reached the point of no return. Madison was going to shout at them, and they'd be too stupid to come up with a good defence, and- she was going to punish them, probably. She was so much larger; it'd be so easy for her to twist their arm or slap them or some other thing. Then she'd tell their parents, and once they were done doing the same thing, they'd kick Akeidat out for being a disobedient child, and then Akeidat was going to starve to death on the streets, alone, and-
"Are you okay?!"
Darius' person-sized paws were on their cheeks before they could even process it. They hadn't even seen or heard the angel arriving. They flinched away from his burning touch, then braced themself; but instead of getting angry, he only hovered there, looking nothing but concerned. His eyes scanned their form.
"Are you injured?" he asked, quietly. Akeidat shook their head.
"I-" he swallowed, "Do you want to be alone?"
They hesitated.
They shook their head.
"Okay." Darius said. Fantastic; now came the part where Darius was going to lecture them and tell them they were in the wrong and nothing ever changed.
"I'm sorry people have been so terrible to you," the angel said instead.
His kindness surprised them every time. Akeidat hiccuped in reply.
"Are you okay with me sitting next to you?"
They nodded. He walked over, and sat next to them, cross-legged. Neither of them spoke, as Akeidat worked to reduce their crying to quiet sniffles and the occasional hiccup.
Akeidat was so tired. They leaned to their side, and Darius caught them, letting the child lay their head on his lap. He ran his fingers through their fur, and then their back.
"I'm really proud of ya', kiddo," Darius said, eventually. Akeidat stilled, and they heard him take in a breath, before elaborating, "Takes guts to talk back to an adult, like that."
"She's- she's just going to be angry," they whimpered.
"She's not angry," Darius claimed, as he continued running his fingers through the child's fur, steadily, "Or disappointed. Or upset with you. I promise. She's just worried, because you were crying."
"How can you know?"
"Because I talked to her, before coming to find you," he explained. His fingers stopped, "And if she tries to yell at you, then I'm gonna yell at her."
Akeidat giggled, and so did Darius. Then Akeidat's expression dropped.
"I shouldn't have been disrespectful," they grimaced, paw over their snout, sheepishly.
"Mmm. Sounded like you were overdue for it, actually," Darius replied, shaking his head. He resumed running his fingers along their back, this time rubbing circles instead of a straight line, "I mean- don't make a habit of exploding at people; but it's an adult's responsibility to mind their kid's feelings. Not the other way around."
Akeidat paused. They'd really never thought of it that way. Like, on a logical, common sense level, they knew that parents were the ones who took care of their children, providing shelter, food, water, and generally keeping the child alive.
They never really thought about the emotional aspect, before. They knew their parents weren't exactly lovey-dovey with them- their father's smothering expectations and their mother's perpetually disapproving tone had been the cause of many sleepless nights- but they'd always viewed it as just.. how parents were. Was it really a part of a guardian's duty to care for the emotional needs of a child, as much as it was their duty to care for their physical needs? A necessity from the start, rather than a bonus they could scrounge for if they did everything correctly and behaved? Why hadn't they thought about something like this before? It seemed so obvious in hindsight, so why did it never even occur to them?
Then another realisation hit. Oh, their parents were actually awful. It wasn't just because of them being an entitled, idiotic, useless, spoiled brat that always asked for too much-
They didn't like that realisation that much. It felt too... simple. Like the feeling they got whenever they got an answer for an exam question worth at least five marks, but the way they got the answer was too easy and straightforward, so surely they had to be doing something wrong, and-
But there was no big moment. No eureka to be had. No complicated puzzle to be solved behind the curtains that could tell them the real answers. It was just a simple realisation, clicking into place like an unassuming box being placed on an ordinary shelf.
"I'm tired," Akeidat said, their voice breaking. Darius was quiet, "I wanna go home, but then I always have things to do at home, and I want there to be nothing for me to do anymore."
"Only way for that to happen's to be dead, I'm afraid," Darius joked. His smirk dropped when he saw Akeidat's lips wobble, "Wait, no- I'm joking, I'm joking, sorry. Bad joke. My fault. I'm just an idiot, sorry."
"I just want my happy ending where I can do what I like, and make games, and enjoy myself," they tugged at Darius' fur, "But the future's not totally happy either, so what's the point in trying, anymore?"
"Oh, Akeidat, no," Darius said, stroking the fur on their head. He paused, and said nothing, until a minute had passed.
And then...
"You wanna know something I noticed about the future you saw?" asked Darius. Akeidat peeped an eye open, and he continued, "The free bus rides. The 3D-printed food that's cheap and accessible for anyone that comes across a station. The air was fresher. So many more plants- and it's not just that; I think the people were a little happier, too. Not much, but at least a bit."
"It is... not the perfect utopia everyone in the history of ever's always dreamed of, but..." the angel shrugged, "At least they're trying. It's not perfect, but it is a little better. I don't think the world would've gotten that far, if people just... gave up hope that things could improve."
They sniffed, "So, what? Study harder to create the future, and be a good little perfect worker for the rest of my life?"
"If you want to. But that's not what I meant," he chided, gently, "What I mean is- I think the fact that you have such high hopes and dreams for your future's a good thing. Hope's powerful. But you're not gonna get it by just waiting around, sitting like a duck until someone hands it to you."
That just made Akeidat feel worse, honestly. Because they weren't sitting around; they'd been studying and doing all this hard work, and obeying the adults, and-
"If you want to be happy in the future, then you've gotta find ways to make you happy now," declared Darius, "Whatever it is; listening to songs you like, playing your favourite games, watching the sunset, doing things you enjoy. Because if you leave all that stuff to some distant future, you'll just keep leaving it, and leaving it, and leaving it, until it's too late, and you're old, and you're full of regrets because you spent your whole life not enjoying it."
"That's..." Oddly specific? "Have you seen a mortal do that, before?"
"Ah-hah," Darius fumbled. Behind him, his wings buzzed, nervously, but he didn't take flight, "Let's... just say I've seen, heh, that happen to at least one mortal."
Oh, they were so curious. They loved a good, dramatic backstory. But this was probably not the time.
Akeidat wiped their eyes, sprinkling away the tears. Do things that make them happy.
They never asked for a babysitter. Another set of eyes, ready to report to their parents about their every transgression. But though she could be annoying, Madison hadn't been the constant surveillance they thought she was. Truth be told, their time with Madison was the most freedom they'd ever had.
They preferred her over their own parents.
"I should... apologise to Ms. Maddie," they concluded. The angel blinked.
"Do you want to?" he asked.
Akeidat nodded.
"She makes me..." they paused, bit their tongue, "I'd be happier if she stayed in my life."
"Huh." Darius noted. He smiled, and pat Akeidat's head, "Then let's go, shall we?"
Wordlessly, Akeidat slid their head from Darius' lap, rolling onto the floor. Then they sat up, paws on their knees, and pushed themself to stand. They held out a paw, and Darius took it.
Together, they walked under the darkened sky. Akeidat had no idea the directions they'd ran when they came here, but the angel's stride was resolute and knowing; more certain of his actions that they'd ever seen from him. They wondered if he had some kind of sixth angel sense, if he somehow managed to keep track of where he was going when he found them, or if he was just bluffing and hoping he was leading them the right way.
Their breath hitched when they finally spotted the blue figure, standing up when she saw them, her eyes red and puffy. She ran towards them, but when they stepped back, so did she.
"Kei, I am so, so sorry," Madison began. She tucked her paw in the sleeve of the other, "I- words can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. For- for everything."
Akeidat remained silent.
"I'm... I'm, uh, I'm bad. At this. People." she sniffed, "But that's not an excuse. I did wrong by you, and you don't have to- to forgive me, but..."
"You deserve an apology," she said, "So, again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for never listening to you, I'm sorry for never being there for you, I'm sorry for being rude, and making fun of you, I'm sorry for dragging you into-" she gestured broadly, "-all of this, with my wish."
"I was not good at being a kid," she said, looking down at her paws, "Being a kid- it's- it can be hard. You hardly get any control over your life, ever. There's so much uncertainty and pressure on your shoulders. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when, uh, when you told that to me."
The hush rang in Akeidat's ears. Perhaps they'd ought to be more cautious, and contemplate the apology more. But the thing was; nobody had ever apologised to Akeidat before. Other than Darius, but he didn't really count; the angel was so constantly apologetic he could say sorry for breathing at them wrong. Whenever they got scolded by their parents, the aftermath usually just saw Akeidat crying in bed and sleeping the hours away, and when they woke up, nobody would say anything. Whatever incident happened would just get swept under the rug, to join the ever-growing pile, and everyone would pretend like nothing had ever happened.
Before they could hesitate further, Akeidat decided to just bite the bullet. Their hooves clattered like marbles against the ground, then there was a poof sound, as they wrapped their arms around Madison's waist, digging their snout into the yarn of her sweater.
"Woah-! Hey, kid-"
"That's the first time anyone's ever apologised to me," murmured Akeidat, solemnly.
Madison smiled, softly. They felt her paw gently ruffle the fur on their head.
"I'm sorry, too," they mumbled, "I've been so angry, and-"
"Easy, there, kiddo," she chuckled, as tears mixed with laughter, "You're forgiven."
"But you were right, being an adult might be harder than I thought-"
"Akeidat, you're just a child," Madison said, softly. They stilled, almost reflexively, but now when Madison said it, instead of being said just about giggling and accompanied by laughter, her voice had dropped low and quiet. Like a whisper, "Just- forget the bet. Everyone's got- everyone's got issues no matter how old we are. I should never have let mine be a part of yours."
They felt more tears threaten to fall, and for that long moment, they simply stood, not speaking a word. Then, eventually, they replied, "Alright."
"...So," Madison finally said, their face still buried in her chest, "...Are we, uh, are we good?"
Akeidat paused. Their hold on Madison's sweater tightened. Were they good?
"...We're better than we were before," they decided.
Madison snorted. She pat their back, "That's good enough for me."
Eventually, Madison pulled away from the embrace, meeting Akeidat's gaze.
"How about this, okay?" Madison offered, crouching low, "Right here, right now, you tell me whatever you're comfortable sharing, and I'll, uh, I'll listen. Fill this old lady in on what's the deal. I'm not gonna say anything to, um, interrupt, until you tell me to."
Akeidat's blinked, and then their eyes widened, stunned. Then, their mood grew sombre, as, word by word, they slowly got out, "It is difficult for me to figure out how to start. There are... many things I'd like to discuss."
"Then pick one," their babysitter replied, "You don't have to rush. Just do one, for now, yeah? You'll get to the other stuff in time."
Akeidat stared up at her, eyes shining.
And so they began speaking.