Chapter Text
Saying that Cruella was an abusive ass bitch was somewhere between and understatement, and the only polite way too put it. It also happened to be what the others called her, on those rare nights when Carlos could escape for a few hours into one of their arms and pretend that he didn’t need to be back by sun up to finish his chores.
She’d always been like that, as far back as he could remember. She’d been trying to mold him into the ‘perfect son’ from a young age, basically since he was born. She chose everything for him, his clothes, how his hair looked, how he spent his time, who he spent it with. Everything. She controlled his whole life, her claws sunk deep into every part.
And if he tried to refuse? Tried to chose anything for himself, tried to be a person for three fucking seconds? She’d scream. And hit. And burn and cut and throw heavy things and once he was down she’d kick until he couldn't breath anymore again and again and it hurt so bad why was this happening to him-
So, he did what he was told. He did ten thousand chores a day, slept in the back of her closet with nothing more than a lump of cloth that could barely be called a mattress, and never complained, at least not in front of her. Part of him was humiliated, he could kick back against a dozen kids twice his size, no matter how slim he knew his odds of getting out alive to be, but when a frail woman almost 60 years of age took to slashing at his skin, he froze, unable to do anything but take it.
Then again, the other part of him understood, reminded him of the scars he already had, the times he almost didn’t make it to the next day, and he decided that a bit of humiliation was worth it to stay in one piece.
Carlos was abused. Cruella was abusive. We covered that already, right? Everyone got it.
Because of Cruella’s stellar parenting, his self esteem was... low. It was something he was trying to work on, but an irrefutable fact. He didn't know anyone outside his household for a long time, something done by his mother’s design, so he had only her opinion on him to shape his own.
His first friend was Evie, meeting her when they both could barely walk. Her friendship barely counted before he joined the crew, only existing because she took his hand smiling and asked him to be her friend, and he found himself compelled to say yes.
They slowly grew apart, his mother demanding he do more and more, allowing him less time with the other child. He didn't have anyone else until Mal and the rest just showed up one day and never left.
He’d met each of them before actually, Evie under obvious circumstances, but the others by chance in… less pleasant situations, and their reputations preceded them anyway. So, when they just showed up one day, acting like they were friends when the only one he had even close to that kind of relationship with was Evie it was... strange.
At first, he thought they were playing some kinda long con, befriending him to get into his mother’s home and steal whatever they wanted. It seemed like the only logical explanation, Cruella had some items that could sell for at least a decent price, and why else would they be speaking to him?
Part of it hurt, he’d liked Evie, and it almost felt like a betrayal, but he couldn't say it really was. They’d known each other as small children, and his mother had forced them to cut off contact before he was 6, his own memories of her were hazy at best. It didn’t make sense to be betrayed by her trying to survive. And honestly, the only reason he felt like that was because he knew his mother would blame him and flip the fuck out, which they didn’t know about, so it wasn't fair to demonize them for it. Honestly, he couldn't care less if they robbed his mother, if it wasn't for the fact she’d take it out on him. She’d always loved her furs more, after all.
But, the weeks turned into months, and that explanation didn’t make sense anymore. He started doing stuff for them and joining them on raids, and he guessed they had an arrangement? It seemed like one, at least. He’d make things and do stuff for them, and he got protected.
Although, it didn’t make sense why they were in an arrangement. The only things he could figure was that they found him amusing, or pitied him. He was clearly weaker than the rest of their grade, and basically everyone else on the Isle, even some of the kids younger than him.
The thought of their pity made anger curl in his stomach, but... also hurt. He wasn't some kicked puppy, or at least, he didn’t want to be. Looking at the ways he acted… yeah. Stupid little Carlos de Vil, can’t even make friends without them pitying you.
Especially since, over time, he started to care for the others. Like really care for them. He had a whole bag of things he scavenged to give Evie for her designs, he’d yell at Jay to take care of himself, and he even punched Gil for saying shit about Mal. (The last one was probably an idiotic thing, since Uma came after him the next day, and then Mal went after her, and it was a shitty situation all around. At least now they were mostly even, caught in more of a standoff-mutual-dislike-sometimes-alliance thing than full out war.)
So, he cared about the other three. A lot. And the thought that they didn’t really care back, just kept him around like an amusing little kicked puppy, one that was fun to play with every once and a while but you couldn't get rid of it no matter how annoying it was because you felt too guilty, hurt. (Not that he loved the idea of being compared to a rabid animal, but whatever. His mom might have been an abusive bitch, but she didn’t lie. No matter how much he wished she did some times.)
But, he dealt with it. Because it was the first time he’d really cared for anything besides his inventions, and the hazy memory of friendship from when he and Evie were small. The pain in his chest was worth it, if he could just pretend they loved him like he loved them.
And then, he realized that despite his inventions and likely high iq, he was an idiot. When it came to emotional intelligence and social literacy, he was so freaking stupid. Not that it was that much of a surprise that he could be so stupid, but it was definitely a surprise that his friends loved him back.
At first, he didn’t realize. Their conversation after he’d finally woken up after half a week of being sick had definitely been a wake up call, a slap in the face with something that should have been obvious. They cared about him. He was part of their crew. They were friends.
But it wasn't until after that, until hazy memories that made his face flush red as a tomato (not that he’d ever seen one. Well a non-canned one), started clearing in his mind, that he realized they loved him.
And, that he was an idiot. Because once those memories came back, of Jay holding him close and Evie singing him lullabies and Mal freaking wasting magic to save his life holy shit-, he began to notice other things. Like the ways they’d reach for him in the past, shrinking away when he’d flinched, though now they followed through, holding him close instead. And the way they would frown when he said something self-deprecating, or virtually growl at a bruise on his face. And he wanted to just grab his past self and shake the kid, because how the hell hadn't he noticed before that they loved him?
Then again, it probably took him a while to accept it himself. He could remember doubting himself, wondering if the memories were just fake, a trick played on him by his own mind. But, over the next few months, he watched his friends, seeing how they became more open and touchy with him, more vulnerable to him too. Eventually, he couldn't deny it anymore.
Now, he couldn't imagine ever thinking they didn’t love him
-=+=-
Carlos muffled a groan into his good arm, trying to blink the spots out of his vision. Everything hurt.
His mother came home early today, and he’d only barely started on his chores, having been out with the others before. She’d been… upset, to say the least. His mother was like a bomb, constantly filled to the brim with violent anger, just waiting for it to be pushed over the brim.
He forced himself to move his arm from his face to the ground, pushing himself up while he cradled the broken one to his chest, reflex tears gathering in his eyes. He managed to get into a sitting position, sliding along the ground until his back was up against the wall. He muffled another groan of pain, old fear of being heard by Cruella catching his tongue, despite the fact that the woman had rushed out in a furious haze.
Carlos took a shaky breath, willing his eyes to stop stinging. He wanted to cry, to just sob and let everything out for once. It was pathetic. He’d faced off against both villains and their children before, made a machine capable of momentarily stopping the barrier, and escaped death more times than he could count, but he was going to cry because he finally realized his mother didn’t love him?
He was an idiot. He’d always knew that Cruella loved her furs more than him, she made it clear enough without literally starting it to him.
But he hadn't realized she didn’t love him at all.
He was so stupid. Holding onto the false idea this whole time, that she must have had at least some affection for him deep down. That she must have loved him even a little.
That he was worth loving.
Tears polled in his eyes, flowing down his face. He felt pathetic. He got the shit kicked out of him so bad he couldn't even pull himself off the kitchen floor, and that wasn't even what upset him the most. It wasn't the cracked rib or the gashes on his chest from her heels that made him cry now, but what she said when she hurt him.
He’d always known the reason he was kept around was nothing more than an investment, Cruella raising him to do the chores she no longer had servants to do for her, and to boost her image, projecting the idea that she had a perfect obedient child and was therefore better than everyone else.
He was useful to her, and that's why she took care of him. Why he was even alive, not drowned in a well like an unwanted kitten.
He’d just hoped, with stupid buried optimism that did nothing but bring pain, that at least over time she’d grown some attachment to him.
Guess not though. It was just like she said. He was unlovable.
He took another shaky breath, looking around the bloody room. Cruella’s words swirled in his mind, he was too dizzy and tired to force them away.
“Obnoxious.”
“Revolting.”
“Unlovable.”
In joined his own pleas to his mother, rambled nonsense in attempts to appease her as she screamed and kicked, different memories running through his head, cut and forced together.
“I’m sorry-”
“You’re right I-”
“-it's my fault-”
“I’ll do better next time-”
He cringed at the memories, mentally begging them to dissipate. He’d given up long ago on asking her not to hurt him, now he just tried to say what she wanted to hear, just to make the hurt shorter.
The words flitted around his head, refusing to leave him be.
“Unlovable.” His mother’s voice taunted, malicious sneer heard even in his imagination. He shut his eyes painfully tight, trying to control his breathing as the room seemed to spin around him.
That's bullshit C, don’t be an idiot. Mal's voice rang out in his mind. His breath caught in his throat.
We love you. Evie’s smile flashed before his eyes, the special one that she only used when she was around just them, not the flirty one she used to con people. The real one.
Yeah, idiot. He could almost imagine Jay swinging an arm around his shoulder, like he did any time they saw each other. Carlos huffed out something mixed between a sob and a laugh.
He wiped his eyes, mouth barely quirked into smiled, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. He steeled himself, getting his breathing under control, then grimaced, forcing himself to stand. He glanced at the blood on the floor, cringing at the future punishment to come from leaving it there. But that didn’t matter much now.
He had a promise to keep.
-=+=-
Okay, so. Walking halfway across the isle covered in blood, concussed, and with several fractured ribs? Awful idea. Like really, really bad idea.
Honestly, the only reason he wasn't dead right was because people were still reeling from the recent team up between their gang and Uma’s crew, and thus were too scared of enduring their combined wrath. The raid had only happened a bit over a month ago, and people would soon realize their alliance was only temporary and go back to their normal level of fear of the separate gangs.
Even though it would fade soon, it was nice for once, having his identity bring him safety rather than the danger it usually did.
After a probably excessive amount of time, he came across the hideout, collapsing onto the ratty couch, the same one he’d spent days sick on nearly two years ago. He forced himself to pull out his phone, idly acknowledging he probably should have done this earlier, ignoring his shaking hands and blurry vision as he sent a message to the others.
At hideout. Bring change and medkit.
He dropped the phone right after, knowing the others wouldn't take the time to respond. Anxiety coiled in his stomach again, but he forced it down, not letting it manifest.
The others… didn’t know how bad Cruella was. They knew what he let them, what he couldn't hide at first, then over time, he’d slowly let more information out.
They’d never seen him without at least an undershirt on, there was no reason for them to. He was fast enough that he never got badly hurt on his chest or stomach(... as far as the knew...), so there was no need for them to force it off and stitch close a slash like what happened to the others in the past. And even though they lived on an island, they had no access to the ocean, or any body of water large enough to swim in.
But, since none of them had ever seen his bare chest, they also never saw the collection of scars that marred it. (Collections rather similar to their own, another thing marking them all the same, yet different in little ways.)
As far as the others knew, Cruella would give him a few good hits or kicks on a pretty regular basis, withhold food from him, and work him like a slave, which was enough to make them pretty pissed already.
They didn’t know she beat the shit out of him all the fucking time, or that he ate so little his ribs showed, or about the cigarette burns that littered his body. Or that he slept at the back of her closet, and the scar marring his leg was actually from one of her bear traps.
They didn’t know he had a C carved into his chest, marking him as his mother’s property after he was returned to her. (He tried to leave. She put out a bounty on his head, and the Isle was small enough he was found within a day, so young he didn’t yet have any protection.)
They don't know how pathetic he was, letting his mother tear him apart bit by bit.
(Because it was his fault, right? That he’d shut down when she hurt him, after years of abuse and not being able to fight back and just letting his mind go blank was his only defense. Now, he’s big enough to fight back, but can’t. Not against her.
Or most adults, or anyone who smells like smoke or sounds too much like her, because she liked to ruin his life. Like when Evie’s fingernails were too sharp and scratched him and he couldn't breathe, so she had to dull them, and Jay had to start spraying himself with tossed out cologne to mask the break of his father’s smoke, and Mal had to tone down her yelling, because usually he was fine but some days it was all too much.)
“You are not pathetic.” Jay had told him, on a day where he couldn't hide the bruises, forceful. “You’re one of us.”
The half-formed panic attack died in his chest. He was one of them. They wouldn't reject him.
His breathing evened out, and he fell into a fitful doze.
-=+=-
He awoke to footsteps above him, as light of a sleeper as everyone else on the Isle. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, recognizing the sound of the other’s steps as they entered through the secret entrance on the roof.
Evie slipped in the room, dropping down from the trap door, eyes almost immediately landing on Carlos, widening in shock.
He grinned at her crookedly. “Sup?” Two more people dropped down, and the three stared at him for a moment.
“Motherfucker.” Jay swore, pushing past Evie to kneel beside him, Mal joining him not a second later, scowling. Evie shook herself, then hurried to catch up and kneel on Jay's other side.
“Who did this?” Mal asked, voice deadly even, as she took his broken arm and began splinting it, easily recognizing what needed to be done. Next to her Jay wet a rag, handing it to Evie to clean the blood from Carlos’s face. They’d patched each other up enough times to know what to do.
Carlos sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable freakout. “My mom.” He admitted. Mal’s nostrils flared, eyes glinting in the dark room. Jay’s shoulders tensed in sync with Evie’s jaw. None of them seemed all that surprised.
“What the fuck.” Jay hissed, eyes raking over Carlos’s beaten body, struggling to contain his rage. The other’s surprise may have been muted, but their anger wasn’t.
“Were you hiding this from us?” Mal asked, fury tinging her voice. Carlos couldn't tell if it was aimed at him or his mother.
“Yeah.” Carlos admitted, unable to deny the obvious truth any longer. He felt a twinge of guilt at keeping something from them. It hadn't been a full lie, especially since he let them know bits of what was happening, but… he promised he’d always come when things were bad, and let's just say he may have at least... bent the promise. Or, at least the definition of “really bad”.
The other three broke into a chorus of harsh whispers, equally worried and angry.
“C, what the fuck -”
“-how often does-”
“ -always tell you! Why didn’t you tell us?!”
“Would you quiet down before someone hears you?!” Carlos hissed, their jumbled words making his headache much worse. The other’s silenced themselves, glaring at him with a mixture of hurt and disapproval on their faces, even as they continued patching him up.
“Look,” He started, rubbing his face with his good hand, pain flaring through the broken one as he pushed off Jay’s arm. “I was scared you’d think I was weak. I know it’s a stupid fear,” He cut Jay off with a look, seeing the other boy prepare to rebuke the thought.
“But years of my mothers brainwashing got me to think I’m disgusting, weak, worthless, unlovable, and a thousand other awful things.” His voice became more and more bitter, practically spitting the words as he spoke, “So screw me if I was insecure.”
None of the others seemed to know what to say, and they fell into an awkward silence. Mal just frowned, still wrapping his arm, and Jay clenched and unclenched his fists again and again, not meeting Carlos’s eyes. Evie finally sighed, breaking the silence, and leaned forward to kiss Carlos’s forehead.
“You’re none of those things, especially not unlovable.”
“I know.” Carlos said, and he meant it. He looked at Jay, catching the other’s guilty gaze, and smiled softly, earning a nod and a small smile in return. He gently hit his leg against Mal’s side, her squeezing his ankle in response.
“What do we have to deal with next?” Mal asked gruffly, finishing off the splint on his arm. Carlos cringed.
“Uhh, promise you won’t freak out?” Mal raised an eyebrow at him.
“My ribs are kinda broken.”
“Why would we freak out at that?” Jay asked lowly, head tilted and eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer. Broken bones weren’t uncommon on the Isle, and not that big a deal, but none of them had seen Carlos without a shirt. They didn’t know what scars lay on his chest.
Carlos sent him a slightly guilty smile, struggling to get his shirt off. Evie helped him, frowning, her breath catching in her throat when she saw his torso.
Carlos’s chest was… not pretty. It was covered in scars, both old and new, a handful of bloody gashes scattered around. His body seemed like just one huge bruise, and he was skinny enough that his ribs were so prominent you could see where some broke and healed slightly off.
Evie pushed past her initial shock, getting to work on cleaning off the blood and wrapping his torso to keep the newly cracked ribs in place. The other two just stared at him, Mal’s face blank with her rage and Jay’s expression overflowing with his own. Their eyes both focused on the same spot, a scar in the shape of a letter C just below his collar bone.
“Anything else you have to tell us?” Mal asked, words clipped, frozen from her icy fury.
Carlos shrugged. “I sleep in the back of her fur closet. Which she protects with old bear traps. I memorized their placement years ago, but when I ran away she had her minions throw me in, and my leg got caught, which is why it's so fucked up. And why there’s a C on my chest. To mark me as her property.”
There was no point in lying to them anymore, and he didn’t want too. (He was tired of it. Telling lies they barely believed, pretending like what happened to him wasn't real, acting like the pain didn't phase him. He just wanted to let his barriers down, be comforted for once. For someone to act like they cared. For someone to love him.)
“I’m gonna fucking kill her.” Jay growled, fists clenched. Mal nodded next to him, shoulders tense and ready to hurt.
Carlos shot the two a look, somewhere between sad and fond, wanting to both cry and laugh. “You can’t.”
“Why the fuck not?” Jay’s eyes glinted, meeting Carlos’s own.
“Because you’ll end up dead.” Carlos said, voice thick. It wasn't a prediction, it was a fact. Cruella may be old, but she was fast and violent and had guards who would gladly kill for her. Neither Jay nor Mal could win. They may be Isle kids, but they were still just kids. Carlos’s chest felt heavy, like someone had poured cement into it.
The other two stiffened, but stayed where they were. None of them could die, they’d sworn not to ages ago, swore they’d never leave each other like that.
“Fuck.” Mal hissed, voice equally angry and defeated, eyes trained on the ground. Jay took her hand, and Carlos’s good one, breathing slowly and deeply, trying to keep himself under control. Carlos smiled sadly, intertwining their fingers.
Evie finished cleaning him up, getting help from others when needed. (They got in each other's way if they worked all at once, so they took turns patching one another up.) Then she and Jay helped him into some fresh clothes, Evie promising to wash and repair the ones he’d been wearing.
They ended up on the couch together, Carlos sitting on Jay’s lap, both his and Evie’s legs tangled on Mal’s. Jay wrapped his arms tight around Carlos, forcing the younger teen to press his head to Jay’s chest, the older’s chin resting on his head. He held Mal’s hand, the fae swiping patterns into the back of it with her thumb.
“I gotta go soon.” Carlos admitted reluctantly. “I left a mess, and she’ll be pissed when I get back.” Mal shook her head, grip tightening.
“It’s fine. I’ll go in a few minutes, even grab Gil and Harry to help if I need, they owe me a favor.” Carlos knew that probably wasn’t true, but the relief of not having to leave and go back was enough to halt his complaints.
“Thanks,” He smiled at her, squeezing her hand. “I already dealt with her furs, don’t touch them. List is in my treehouse.” Mal nodded, glancing down at their joined hands.
“Why are you letting us know now?” She asked. Jay’s gripped tightened around him marginally, and Evie sent him an almost guilty, both obviously wanting to know.
Carlos shrugged. “I got sick of lying. There was no point in hiding it, all it did was leave me more vulnerable to my mother, and the only reason I hid it was because deep down I believed everything she said.” He averted his gaze, looking at his lap. “I still kinda do, I’m not gonna fix my fucked up brain in one night. But I also knew you guys loved me. And that you didn’t deserve to be lied too.“
He tilted his head up, smiling at her. “Besides, I made a promise. I figured it was time to keep it.” Mal smiled at him, squeezing his hand again. She detangled herself from their cuddle pile, Evie moving to take her place, and stood.
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then left, going to track down some helpers and finish his chores. Carlos blushed bright red, glaring at Evie as she giggled at him. Jay huffed a laugh, and tilted his face to kiss the top of Carlos’s head, making him blush even brighter.
“I hate you guys so much.” He groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his ear to Jay’s chest.
“Sure you do, pup.” Jay laughed. They sat in comfortable silence again for a while, just holding each other. Evie stroked his ankle much like Mal had with his hand before, eyes trained on the door.
They didn’t have to be quite as vigilant as of late, even without the extra fear from their short-lived alliance with Uma’s gang, their own group quickly gaining reputation and moving its way up through the ranks, more feared than even some of the adult’s gangs now. They were safe in their base now, their home, but old habits die hard.
“Hey, C.” Evie spoke, breaking the quiet.
“Hmm?” Carlos hummed, cracking an eye to look at her, suddenly realizing how tired he was.
“Thanks for telling us.” He blinked at her, eyebrows furrowed. “So we can protect you.” She clarified, a soft smile on her face.
He huffed, closing his eyes again. “I can protect you guys too, I’m not a baby.”
“Of course not,” Jay shifted under him. “We all take care of each other. That means you've got three people to protect, but also three people protecting you when shit hits the fan. Just let us take care of you for once instead of pretending you’re fine when you’re not, idiot.” Anger seeped in Jay’s voice near the end, legitimately upset.
Carlos realized that was what Jay was most upset about. Carlos had hid something from them, something that could put him in serious danger no less, and none of the others knew, so they couldn't protect him. Or patch him up either, after most of the times it happened at least.
Carlos nodded into Jay’s chest. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t hide anything from you guys anymore.” Jay made a noise in the back of his throat, accepting both Carlos’s apology, and promise.
They settled again into a comfortable silence, safe with each other. Carlos allowed himself to drift off to sleep, knowing the others would protect him, and that it would soon be his job to do the same for them.