"Kid. Kid. Stop that, no—" Morro made a grab for the scissors, snatching them out of the six-year old's pudgy hands. "Harvey. Don't touch sharp stuff. Didn't your parents teach you this shit?"

"My parents are dead," Harvey replied amicably. "Sh—it."

"Don't say that!"

"But you said it?" Harvey turned doe-like eyes towards Morro. Morro slapped a hand over his own eyes and turned away from the entrancing pull of little kids. "How come I can't say shit?"

"When you're older!" Morro almost shrieked. "You can't say bad words."

"M'hungy."

"What do you want? Chicken nuggets? Fries? Fried rice?" Morro suggested quickly, eyes trained on the six-year-old in case he made a dash for the door.

"What's that?" Harvey pointed towards the high shelf of the kitchenette in his room. Where Morro stored his instant noodles.

"Oh, kid, I doubt you can eat that."

"Twy me," Harvey demanded, childishly crossing his arms. He was as tall as Morro's knee and not intimidating in the slightest. "I wanna eat noodles."

Morro shook his head again. "I'm not letting you eat noodles."

"But—" Harvey cast his puppy dog eyes to Morro despondently. Shielding his eyes once again, Morro scrabbled around to put the scissors away. "Okay."

"What?" He'd given up so fast? Weren't kids supposed to throw tantrums every other second?

"M'not hungy." Harvey answered, swinging short legs from his perch on Morro's red couch. "I don't wanna eat."

"Then what do you want to do?"

Harvey stared out of Morro's window, brown eyes darting every time a bird flew past, when a tree branch swayed with the wind, when a squirrel hopped up on the wooden window sill and then leapt away.

"I wanna visit my uncle."

Morro's heart plummeted to his stomach, hit his shoes and bounced back up like he'd been shot. "Look, I'm sorry...I can't do that."

"Why not? Is it like bad words?"

It's worse than that. Morro tried to rid his mind of Harumi's tortures on Neuro last night - eight sharpened blades, chains, and a bowl of salted water. Simple, but effective. Just how she liked it. Neuro didn't scream. He didn't shout. He didn't make a single noise as Harumi pushed his boundaries further and further until he passed out on his own accord. There was a sort of grim satisfaction on her face that had wavered slightly when she'd left.

The red on his hands was not from colouring with Harvey like he'd been forced to do earlier. Neuro's blood-stained bright as a sick reminder to Morro what he'd done.

"Mister Morro? You okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm good, little guy. Do you still want noodles?"

"My uncle?" Harvey pushed, his expression unwavering from dulled hope. Gods, what had this kid gone through even before Harumi had snatched him up?

"Noodles," Morro insisted, getting up to grab two cups from the high shelf. "Don't climb on the countertops."

"I can't rweach it then." Harvey ignored his orders, pushing himself up onto the wooden countertops with the help of a chair.

"Don't touch the kettle while it's boiling—"

Harvey touched the kettle.

"Owwww!"

"I told you not to touch it!" Morro groaned, hoisting Harvey up next to the tap. He ran the cold water and rolled his eyes as Harvey whined at the bright red patch on his tiny hand. "Listen to me next time."

"Nooodles," Harvey giggled as Morro poured the hot water into both cups. He then added a full packet of spice for his own and shut the lid, a quarter of the spice packet for Harvey.

"Wait! I want more red stuff." Harvey demanded, adding a "Pwease." on the end hopefully.

"Yeah, no. Stay still. Don't move. I need to get something." Morro stared into Harvey's eyes until the kid laughed and accidentally slapped Morro in the face.

Rubbing the side of his face, Morro entered his bedroom and sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. He bent over and pulled a single piece of parchment paper out from underneath the metal framing. Huffing a big breath to move green hair out from his eyes, Morro slowly read the paper.

One. Cut off all emotional ties to save yourself in the future.

Two. Train until you don't fail.

Three. Don't fail. You know better

Four. There is no such thing as losing.

All of these rules were stupid, but they were rules that his father had made up for him, and now Harumi. Harvey was making him question the logic of these rules. Surely having faith and an anchor, emotional or not, would be beneficial? Something to live for? It seemed impossible to rebut one rule without encountering another.

He could still train. He could still succeed. He would not lose.

But he would not let another boy grow up as broken as him.

Morro saw the beginning signs in Harvey. Changing decisions quickly. Holding onto the last people you loved with tears in your eyes and desperation in your heart. Harvey didn't have parents. Morro knew that from finding the kid in Neuro's shack of a house.

Shivering, but determinedly staring at the door, waiting for his uncle to return. He didn't have the heart to tell Harvey back then that Neuro would never return to that place, dead or alive. But Harvey seemed like a quick-witted kid with brains. He caught onto the situation pretty quickly and was quiet as Morro led him to a black car waiting outside.

Harvey was more like Morro than he'd ever realised. Not just the tragic childhood, sucky present and future.

Morro had lied when he said he couldn't sense an element in Harvey.

He just didn't know what exactly to do with it - the sensation that the chasm in Harvey was waiting for something. A void waiting for power; one that Morro could only guess at.

Harvey, nephew of Neuro Mente, Master of the Mind, looked up when Morro walked back into the main room. Brown eyes scoured Morro's face in a calculating way he wasn't quite sure what to do with.

"Here," Morro moved Harvey up onto the counter and sat by him, his own long legs brushing the ground whereas Harvey's blue-sneakered feet swung above. "Eat."

Harvey stared at the food for a beat. "Haven't eaten in a le-wong time." Morro said nothing, swirling the broth around.

"You don't eat aw-lot either, do you, Mister Morro?"

"Don't have time, Harvey."

"Harry. I like being called Harry. My dadda's called Harry." the little kid said determinedly, chasing floating noodles around with a yellow plastic fork.

"Alright, Harry." He had to choke the name out and force down the emotions that rose with it.

"Miss him."

"I know. I understand."

"How?"

"I lost three people very special to me, Harry. My mother," Morro ticked off each person on a bone-thin finger, "My father. And my little brother."

"Whats 'is name?"

"His name," Morro paused, looking into the dregs of the noodles with some sense of finality. "His name was Harry. And I loved him, very, very much."

a/n: kinda shitty but here! Fits in anytime after harvey and morro meet, closer to the start of their relationship. Btw, i will not tolerate any kind of funky shipping between these because trust me ive seen some of yalls stuff. Very much platonic and angst :)