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gococogo · 4 months

Text

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 6

Pt. 5 | Pt. 7

Synopsis: Haytham goes out looking for Shay and only finds trouble

Word Count: 1.8K

Genre: Coming of age/Young Love

Pairing: Haytham Kenway / Shay Cormac

Warnings: Violence

Notes: I am actually so sorry for not updating this series since goddamn November. It's just been wild since Christmas and I've been kicking myself for not finishing this series. I'm literally a couple of chapters from completing this series as well haha. I know this chapter is short, but there will be more shortly

The next morning on the hotel stairs, Haytham tells Birch of Shay and Liam. He doesn’t tell him of their nights out beforehand. But he also mentions the white robed figure he saw with Liam, not thinking twice of it. Only because he’s afraid that if Birch finds out he’s lied to him, he won’t have free reign anymore.

Yet it wouldn’t exactly be lying per say. It would just be not telling stuff to Birch. Like the tin of tea he has stuffed in the back of his pants.

“That boy from the tavern?” Birch quickly as he puts two and two together.

Haytham swallows thickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright. And this robed man. Did he look dangerous?” Birch asks.

“I didn’t feel in danger,” he confesses.

“Hmm.” Birch thinks of it.

He walks up the stairs halfway before turning back to Haytham, as if reminding himself the boy is there. He looks at Haytham as if there’s a million things going on in his head. But he doesn’t speak a word of either of those thoughts. Haytham wonders to himself sometimes what truly goes on in his head. Then other times, he couldn’t give two shits what Birch thinks, it’s only what he says that matters.

“Go off. Just be careful is all,” Birch inquires before leaving, hiding his smirk from the boy.

But with that, Haytham is off successfully hiding the tin of tea in his pants. How? He doesn’t know. Maybe Birch noticed and didn’t say anything or maybe he got caught up thinking about the robed man. Maybe Haytham should keep an eye on him if Birch is interested. Or maybe he should mind his own business and worry about himself? Haytham moves on from those thoughts as quick as he makes his way out on the street.

He remembers the way Liam took him to Aunt Bridgette’s. She was a lovely woman and Haytham had found out she had used the last of her tea on the boys yesterday. So, being the gentleman Haytham is, he’s giving her his own supply. Birch won’t care. They have much more back home and can simply purchase more without a bat of their eye. Unlike Bridgette who has to keep a close watch on her spendings.

He gets to the small apartment no problem and doesn’t hesitate to go inside. He may have only been here once, but he shouldn’t be afraid to wonder around. Especially of one that looks like him. A little first class boy would be easy to rob.

Lightly, Haytham knocks on her door.

After a moment, similar to yesterday it opens and Bridgette stands there. She looks down to Haytham and it takes her a second to recognise him.

“Oh, Haytham my dear boy. What are you doing here?” Bridgette asks sweetly.

“Is Shay about?” He responds softly.

She shakes her head. “Oh. No sorry, dear. He’s at the docks with Liam and his father.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Haytham goes to run off but he stops at the top of the stairs and quickly turns around. He holds out the tin of tea for Bridgette.

“I noticed you ran out of tea yesterday. So, I brought you some more,” Haytham offers with a shy smile. “It’s from London.”

This gets a hearty laugh from the old woman. One that has Haytham’s heart swelling. She takes the tea and looks at the patterns on the tin. It’s a lovely pattern of flowers and plants. Something often seen in London in the high class stores.

“Oh, this is lovely. Thank you, Haytham,” she says with a wide smile. “You truly shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” he interjects. “But I best be off now ma’am. I don’t want to be late to catch, Shay.”

“Be well!”

With the goodbye, Haytham is rushing down the stairs and out the building. Without even thinking he begins sprinting to the docks. He doesn’t want to miss Shay. His feet move quicker than his body at times and he almost slips over while weaving in between people on the street. Last thing he wants to do his get his fine clothes dirty.

When he arrives at the docks, he doesn’t spot the Irish boy straight away. There’s quite a crowd on the Greenwich docks today and it seems as if everyone has decided to be out. Haytham pushes and shoves through people to try and get a better look but, everywhere he goes there’s no sign of Shay nor Liam.

It begins to worry him. Last thing he wants is to get lost in a place like this. He must admit it isn’t entirely all that smart to come out here alone and he was hardly thinking. He blushes when he realizes all he was thinking of was Shay. He rubs a hand over his face, hoping to wash away the red.

Haytham grunts as he runs into a crate near the docks, his right arm now aching where the edges of the wood dug in. He rubs it as he glares at the crate, swearing it off in his head. But in the midst of his frustration, an idea comes along. He can get a better view from up there. With a huff, he pulls himself up on the crate and is looking about the docks from a new found height. Up here, he can see everyone. What they’re doing, who they’re talking with and much more.

He spots Liam first. Next to a small, docked ship that looks a bit battered around the edges. His bald head tall over others. Hard to miss such a man like him. If Liam is there, then Shay should be as well.

Haytham hops off the crate and begins pushing his way towards the direction of Liam. He just hopes that he doesn’t move on and such.

Yet, the closer Haytham gets, the louder yelling becomes.

“I TOLD YOU TO KEEP OFF OUR SIDE OF THE DOCK!” Liam bellows out.

“This ain’t your dock, O’Brien!” Another man shouts back.

“I know it ain’t mine but you’re interrupting our flow of traffic here!” The young irish man seethes back, his voice raising with each word.

“Bah! We are merely using the dock as it’s intended to,” the other man exclaims as he gestures up and down the walkway with two hands. “We can dock our ship here because we paid for it!”

Liam swings and lands the first punch. The sound of fist striking jaw is loud enough that it has Haytham’s own jaw hurting. Then, chaos reigns. Men shout, more fists are thrown.

Haytham becomes caught in the middle of it as both sides of this fight come head on. The boy is pushed aside to the edge of the dock. His foot slips and he nearly falls ass over head. He flails his arms about like some blabbering chicken when someone grabs the front of his vest.

Shay holds onto with both hands, straining as he has to use his entire body weight to hold Haytham up. It always feels like this Irish boy pops out of nowhere. Haytham laughs out a smile as Shay gives a strained one back. It’s a balancing act and Haytham doesn’t know how much longer Shay can keep this up.

“What are you doing here?” Shay wheezes out.

“I came to find you,” Haytham says truthfully.

Shay’s eyes widen something soft, his ears turning a bright red. He tries to pull Haytham up, but from behind a sailor is pushed their way. The sailor knocks into Shay, tipping the balancing act and sending both boys into the drink. Shay lands on Haytham heavily in the water, his elbow digging into his hip.

Haytham gasps to the surface and Shay follows too long after. The fighting ensues up on the dock and Haytham can’t help but laugh. What on earth was Liam thinking. He looks to Shay who has the widest grin on his face. His hair sticks to his face, showing just how long it is.

“What was going on?” Haytham asks.

Shay flicks his hair from his face with a small grunt. “I’ll tell you when we get out.” He looks up to the dock. “And I guess once they’ve all settled down.”

“Okay,” Haytham nods as he begins swimming.

Once out of the water, soaking wet and dripping all over the docks, the boys watch from a far as red coats break up the fighting. Some red coats get punched in the process and dragged into the fight. A gun shot rings out, a bullet being fired into the air and the chaos stops. Men flee that aren’t in cuffs and some even dive into the water and begin swimming away.

On a dock across from the fighting, Haytham and Shay sit on the edge, dangling their feet over the water. Liam is nowhere to be seen within the crowd as sailors are arrested for public disturbance and violence on the street. He must of run off somewhere. Lucky bastard.

“So, why was Liam fighting?” Haytham asks without taking his eyes off the crowd.

Shay wrings his shirt of water the best he can as he answers back, “Liam’s father, good man… I think. His crew like to pick fights for the crew that shares that dock. British. But like, stupid British if you get my meaning.”

Haytham nods, not being offended at the slightest.

“I don’t see the fuss in it all when they can just move out of each other’s way. But Liam has become caught in the middle and for some reason, he shares the same hatred towards the other’s crew.”

“Oh. It’s a, ‘oh you hate him so I must hate him as well, even though I don’t know why,’ type of thing,” Haytham mocks.

Shay chuckles brightly, “Yeah!”

This has a laugh from Haytham has well. Something so innocent. But, after a few passing moments, Haytham groans into his hands.

“I can’t go home like this,” the British boy grumbles.

So much for his clothes.

“Like what?” Shay asks a little oblivious.

Haytham stands as he gestures to himself. “Like this. A soaked rat!”

Shay looks the other up and down with a little, “Ooh.”

“Can’t you sneak in?” Shay asks with a cocked eyebrow.

Haytham only shakes his head. “I won’t make it as far as the front desk.”

“What if, I try?” The irishboy grins from ear to ear.

He stands up as well as he pushes his long shaggy locks out of his face. Haytham only stares at him with furrowed brows. He doesn’t think that would work.

“You?” Haytham asks.

Shay nods. “I’m the sneakiest boy you’ve ever known!”

“I don’t know many people.”

Shay slaps his chest with a loud, “Exactly!”

14 notes · View notes

gococogo · 8 months

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Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 1

Pt.2

「Synopsis」 : No older than sixteen, Haytham Kenway is dragged along to America for the first time. Somewhere other than boring old London. But Birch has him on a tight leash with wanting him by his side all the time.

And at such a young age, Haytham's curiosity has not been tamed yet. So he wonders off wanting to take in the new things. And a new thing is a young boy he runs into that calls himself, Shay.

「Word count」 : 1.4K

Genre: Coming of Age/Young Love

Paring: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: I've changed Haytham's and Shay's age to only being a year apart for the sake of the story. Enjoy!

Hearing about Shay had brought on something familiar. Yet it wasn’t until he saw him in person that an itch came about that wouldn’t go away. A memory there that couldn’t be reached. Maybe it was something he had pushed down so he wouldn’t think of it too much. He didn’t ask Shay anything of it though. Not wanting to detour the man from the task at hand.

But he finds himself walking along a street in New York that he shouldn’t know, yet his second nature does. He hasn’t spent a lot of time in New York since he came to America, mostly keeping his business in Boston. Sending others he trusts to do business in New York. Yet it seems day by day that he has to trek out here to finish what other could not.

But his walk, it brings him to the closed theatre. Boarded and nailed shut. The paint peeling and flaking off the old rotting boards underneath. It isn’t what Haytham remembers it as.

It was Haytham’s first time visiting America. Or visiting anywhere other than London in the six years since his father has passed. He’s just coming of age, yet at the same time it still feels like he’s still being treated a child. Shadowed away and only told things when needed. Birch, the man to bring him along to the new world, is one to keep him close to his side. Making sure that he knows where Haytham is at all times type of thing. But he does it because it’s the right thing to do. Haytham knows he does it because he wants the young man to be the best of himself he can be. Even thought sometimes that can be very hard.

Even though Haytham knows it’s not exactly normal. He knows what other families look like. He’s well aware of how a family is meant to act and treat each other. But once realizing that he doesn’t live a normal life when he was young allowed him to step forward. Does he wish for a normal life sometimes?

Yes. Yes, he does find himself wanting to play like the other kids. Go to balls with the other large families. Or talk with the other boys about the girls across the road. Or… Other things that normal British boys do. He wouldn’t exactly know because he’s being dragged across the world to America for business.

Maybe that’s what other boys do but… this isn’t just another business trip a father brings their boy along for. This is bringing Haytham along to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble in London. To make sure that his training isn’t diverged by someone or something. Strictly business. Nothing more.

Unlike London though, New York is nothing like home. Everything is new yet… not at the same time. The buildings seem to be all half assed and there are red coats everywhere Haytham looks. The carriage that transports Birch and himself knocks and sways on the rough New York road. Nothing like the smooth brick laid streets back home.

Haytham sits with his hands on his knees, his eyes glued to the outside of the carriage. His mind is elsewhere and he doesn’t pay any attention to his legal guardian sitting across from him. Birch watches Haytham with a frown upon his brow and mouth.

“What do you think of New York so far?” Birch suddenly asks.

Haytham’s head snaps towards him, eyes wide. He didn’t hear a single word Birch just said. He repeats himself as the boy composes himself.

“Um, it’s-“

“Don’t say um. It’s improper,” Birch snaps.

“It’s different,” Haytham replies surely this time.

“How so?”

The boy glances out the window again, as if having to have another look to compare it to back home. Birch thinks he’s going to be lost in thought again but he comes back.

He turns to Birch with an answer, blue eyes wide with eagerness. He explains truthfully as to what he thought in his head mere moments before.

Birch huffs at that and takes a look outside for himself. A child’s mind truly does see more than the average adult.

The carriage suddenly stops, and the driver calls out to them that they’re here. The door is opened for them by one of their personal guards and kicks out the step for them. Haytham exits first with Birch close behind. The boy wears a blue suit with a white undershirt that frills out on his chest. His short black hair is tied back into a small ponytail but despite the best efforts of the maids, bits and pieces still fall around his face.

Birch’s men begin unloading the carriage of their luggage and bags. They’ll be staying here for a minimum of three months, maximum of four. Birch hasn’t really told Haytham why they’re here but that it’s all for business. He is aware of Birch’s affiliations and what he does, but Haytham does not yet know the full extent of it. He wishes to help, but Birch says he’s much too young to deal with anything just yet. Another year.

Haytham follows Birch’s men inside out curiosity, leaving Birch outside to speak with the owner of the hotel. He seems like a sweet old man but Haytham wouldn’t have any patients for him.

The inside of the motel is… how would one put it? A little run down. It doesn’t look any better from the outside. It isn’t the best but Haytham has to remind himself that he isn’t in London anymore where pride for establishments is a grand thing. It seems like the same pride does not reside here.

Laughter catches Haytham’s attention and almost without thinking, he wonders off towards the sound. He does think though, he thinks of, if he gets caught by Birch he’s going to be in for it. The laughter takes him to the back of the motel where a small foyer lays. Almost like a waiting area that leads out to the back of the motel.

Two boys, around Haytham’s age if not a bit younger, come running through the back door and into the foyer. The two of them look middle class but just barely. Their clothes plain and beige with some patchwork done to repair them. They laugh and giggle as the ginger of the two hides behind one of the couches. The blonde chases after him, hitting his shoulder.

Haytham blinks in confusion as all the ginger does is laugh louder at being hit and not wallow and cry on the ground. The ginger stands up and his bright eyes meet Haytham’s.

“Oh! Are you staying here?” He asks Haytham with a smile.

Little Haytham feels his mouth go dry. He just stares as the two come over to them so confidently. Without fear or hesitance. He’s lost for words, his own shyness getting the best of him.

“Yes,” he finally answers softly.

“Are you a Brit!?” The blonde asks loudly.

At this, Haytham nods.

“That’s cool! Travelled all the way here on a ship!” The ginger laughs. “Wanna play with us?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for poor Haytham to reply before batting him on the arm.

Haytham brings his arm to his chest and looks to the boys in utter confusion. And because he doesn’t know what’s going on, he feels stupid, and his throat only constricts even further.

“Do brits not know tag?” The blonde asks sourly.

Before Haytham can reply, he’s yanked back furiously with a hand on his arm. With such force he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplashed. Birch gets between him and the two boys who back off quickly, eyes going wide with fear. Birch is a tall man with an ugly scowl, even Haytham can admit that. He’s just use to it, but anyone that doesn’t, well. The boys are showing a great example of how mean he looks.

“Did they touch you, Haytham?” Birch asks firmly.

Haytham looks to the boys, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He looks up to Birch and shakes his head.

“No, sir,” he replies back.

Seemingly satisfied, Birch faces the two boys again. “Be off with you lot,” he snaps.

The boys don’t hesitate any longer, running back off into the garden with their tails tucked between their legs. Birch seems to huff at that. Haytham tries to wiggle out of Birch’s firm grip but it only tightens. He pulls Haytham around to face him, kneeling down so their nose to nose.

“I don’t want you wondering off while we’re here. It’s not like London,” Birch speaks firmly, in that voice that means he wants it his way or no way. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

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gococogo · 6 months

Text

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 5

Pt.4 | Pt.6

Synopsis: Haytham finds out Birch's line of work and has some new set responsibilities while on the trip. But, doing as Birch says he's able to go out on his own and hang out with Shay.

Word Count: 2.5K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue/Young Love/Coming of Age

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: Updates for this series will be a bit slower because of Christmas coming up and all that jazz

On his bed, Haytham had fallen asleep writing in his journal. It lays open on his chest as he quietly snores away, quill still loosely in hand. The boy is just lucky he had the wit to put his ink bottle on the ground and not on his bed. Otherwise, Birch would be furious with him to find out that he’s ruined the bed sheets with black ink.

Three hard knocks come from his door, awaking Haytham from his slumber. He ponders for a moment if the noise he just heard was from his dream, but when it happens again, he groans as he sits up. His journal falls off him and onto the floor with a clunk. He’s still in last night clothes and when for the third time another set of knocks pursue, he realizes what transpired last night.

“Hello!?” He calls out as he jumps to his feet.

“Haytham, are you dressed?” Birch calls from the other side.

Haytham, as quickly and frantically as he can, gets changed into other casual clothes that don’t look like they’ve been dragged through mud and dirt. He jumps into his pants, nearly falling over in the process. He thumps around, his frantic moving about not going unheard.

“Yes!” He finally calls back out.

As Birch opens the door, Haytham kicks his journal under his bed. Birch looks to Haytham with squinted eyes, as if a scolding is on the tip of his lips. But the man doesn’t say such things as he looks around the room. He closes the door behind him. He’s here for something else.

Silently, Birch walks across the room and sits on Haytham’s bed. The mattress creaks under him. He lets out a little sigh before patting beside him. “Come. Sit.”

Haytham is a little hesitant at first, but he does as he’s told. It’s a little awkward. He’s still so so very tired from last night. He holds himself up right though, the best he can, so that Birch doesn’t suspect anything. It’s as if, if Haytham knows something, Birch will find out somehow, sometime, somewhere.

“Do you know what type of business I do, Haytham?” Birch suddenly asks, looking to the boy with a raised brow.

Haytham will have to give himself some credit. He isn’t stupid. He knows that Birch’s business isn’t like anyone else’s. He just doesn’t know what sort of business.

“I don’t know the purpose of it,” Haytham admits.

Birch nods. “And do you know why I’m harsh on you?” He asks another question.

This time, Haytham hesitates. Thinking of his answer. He knows to some degree. But without knowing the meaning for work that Birch does, Haytham does not know.

“Not all the time,” he tells honestly again.

And again, Birch nods.

“I want to tell you now, Haytham. Before you begin to hate me, before you begin to loath the way I keep you here under a watchful eye,” Birch begins, looking to Haytham, wanting him to understand. “The business I do is to keep the Order I serve in power. To keep order within the people.”

“Like a governor?” Haytham asks straight away.

“Almost.” Birch looks off across the room. “I want you to be apart of that some day, Haytham. That is why I am training you, teaching you to be a man for the Templar Order. All so that chaos like your father’s death doesn’t ensue further within society.”

Haytham intakes a sharp breath and looks to the ground to escape Birch’s returning gaze. He knows that his own father was training him for something. He just doesn’t know what. But now Birch is doing the same and it’s for his cause. He’s told Haytham what it’s for instead of keeping it hidden any longer.

If it’s to stop the same chaos that happened to his father, then maybe he’ll be able to make him proud.

“Okay,” Haytham nods slowly.

“Good,” Birch stands. “But that does not mean I won’t be letting you off the hook quite so easily,” he speaks firmly as he turns to the boy. “I will let you leave this room, but only because I think it will do you some good to see the world. To see how this American society behaves unlike home.”

Haytham holds in his excitement, curling his hands into fists on his knees. “Thank you, sir.”

“But,” Birch holds up a finger, his eyes becoming wide. “But, to do so without consequence, Haytham. You will revisit your sword training every afternoon at four in the afternoon. Every. Day. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“And you will report back to me of your outings. Every. Day. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll meet you in the garden at four.”

Training that same day had gone swiftly. Birch had hired a New Yorkian swordsman -Leonard Wright- to help keep Haytham on his toes. Truth be told, it did take Haytham half an hour to get into the rhythm again, but his skill came back like a second nature. He had forgotten how much he loved the feeling of letting his mind go and letting his body move on it’s own.

The very next day though, Haytham is using his new found privilege to wonder out into Greenwich. He wants to find Shay but… he doesn’t even know where to begin. He goes down to the Greenwich docks. Only because that’s where he first met Shay, and maybe, maybe by some chance he’ll be there.

But when the boy searches high and nigh and doesn’t find anyone other than a bunch of sailors and drunks, he heads back home to train with Leonard. He was early, having nothing else to do and a simple thing, but it made Birch happy.

The next few days continue like this until Haytham gives up. He sits outside the hotel with a stick in hand, flicking the dirt out from between the bricks on the street. He’s bored. Birch doesn’t have plans until later in the week other than his training. But that isn’t until for another six hours. He’s asked Haytham to join him for such events later down the week and with nothing else planned, he accepted.

“How long have you been sitting there for?”

Haytham jerks up at a familiar Irish accent. But it isn’t Shay. Liam stands before him with his arms crossed over his chest. Haytham stands to his feet, brushing away at the dirt on his bottom.

“I don’t know,” the boy shrugs.

Liam looks off to the street before back at him. As if pondering something to himself.

“I’m off to meet with Shay’s aunt, you finished with cleaning the street?” Liam asks.

Haytham visibly brightens at such an offer. “Shay’s aunt?”

Liam nods and begins walking down the street. Haytham is quick to follow, not needing anything else to join him.

“Yes. He’s been staying with her permanently ever since Shay’s father died. But it’s not like he was around much in the first place,” Liam tells Haytham loosely.

“Oh,” is all the boy says.

Maybe he had read the room wrong when he first met Shay and his father. A boy so overjoyed to see his father again, it must of spilled onto Haytham a bit.

“How long have you known Shay?” Haytham asks.

Liam shrugs. “I don’t keep track of that. I’ve ran into the little shit before, gotten him out of some trouble here and there. It’s mostly our father’s that like to drink together.”

“Both sailors?”

“Yep. You might meet my pa if he’s still hanging about.”

Haytham swallows thickly. If Liam is huge, he can only imagine the size of his father.

Liam suddenly stops and places a hand on Haytham’s shoulder, squeezing a bit. He bends down slightly so that the boy can look him in the eye. He notices a small scar on the bridge of his nose that is old and faded.

“Stay here a moment,” is all Liam says before wondering off into a nearby ally.

Haytham only stays standing on the side of the street for a couple of seconds before his curiosity gets the best of him. Like an itch he needs to scratch. He knows it’s wrong. He knows that if he gets caught Liam will scold him. Or even worse.

But he peers around the corner of the building into the ally anyways to see what Liam is doing. Liam speaks to another man in soft spoken voices. The other man is oddly dressed. He wears white robes that contrast against his dark skin. Haytham knows that it’s none of his business, but with how the man dresses it only has him wanting to ask questions.

Before Liam can spot Haytham spying, he slips back away to the spot he was left in. He kicks at a rock on the street, making out he’s been here the entire time doing this.

Liam comes out from the ally with a huff and looks to Haytham with a smile. “Let’s be off then, aye?”

Shay’s aunt’s place isn’t that far of a walk and Haytham is just grateful at that. Because the conversation dies real quick and the silence is awkward. He doesn’t question the older about the little odd stop along the way, knowing fair well Liam will just brush it off.

The apartment block is small, located in a two storey building. Liam opens the front door without hesitation and makes his way up to the second storey. The place smells musty and… Haytham can only describe it as old people breath. A lil stinky, a lil fishy.

Liam tries to open the first door next to the stair way and he finds it locked. Haytham watches from halfway up the stairs as he raps on the door.

“Bridgette? You there?” Liam calls out.

It’s quiet for a moment and Haytham holds onto the railing. He suddenly feels overdressed for a place like this. Everything has a layer of grim on it and makes his hands feel sticky. He doesn’t want to show that he’s mildly grossed out in worry of having Liam telling him that he’s right. That Haytham is just another first class boy that doesn’t like people like them.

The door opens suddenly and a middle aged woman pokes her head out. The sides of her brunette hair are silver that almost runs all the way around her head. Her smile lines run deep and her cheeks sag. She wears a burgundy dress that looks hand me down. But it’s a nice dress Haytham will admit.

“Liam! You were meant to be here an hour ago!” Bridgette exclaims but there’s a smile rising to her words and face.

“I would have been sooner but I picked up a stray,” Liam gestures as he uses Haytham as an excuse.

Bridgette looks down the stairs at Haytham, her eyes squinted as if she needs glasses to see. Haytham comes forward so that she doesn’t have to strain instead of hiding away.

“I’m Haytham Kenway,” he introduces himself.

“Oh my,” Bridgette breathes. “What are you doing with Liam?”

“I-“

“HAYTHAM!?” A shout comes from inside.

Shay comes out from behind Bridgette and his face widens with pure glee as he sees the first class boy. He jumps forward and engulfs Haytham in a hug that has the both of them stumbling backwards into the hall. Haytham can’t help but laugh loudly as Shay pulls away to look at him, hands still gripping his shoulders.

“What are you doing here!?” Shay exclaims.

“I picked him up along the way,” Liam says again before Haytham can get a word in.

Shay turns around to his aunt. “Can he come inside?”

Bridgette looks to Haytham, as if reading him. And satisfied with what she sees, she agrees and ushers the three boys inside.

“Is my father still around?” Liam asks as he shuts the door behind him.

“You just missed him. He’ll be back shortly to help me put up my clothesline,” Bridgette answers back.

“Did those boys pull it down again?”

“They’re just boys, Liam.”

“Those boys keep harassing everyone in this apartment building!”

The two conversate while Haytham and Shay wonder off into the small place. It’s not much, there’s only two small rooms. The living room, kitchen and bathroom are all in the main area. A small wooden tub sticks to the side of the room next to a fire place that crackles and burns lightly. The room to the right of the place is smaller than the main room, barely holding a bed and a dresser.

Shay sits down at the rickety table that sits in the middle of the room. It wobbles and the Irish boy curses as he tries to level it out again with a small plank of wood under one leg. Shay does it so quickly as if he’s done it more times than once.

“Haytham,” Bridgette suddenly calls out. “Would you like some tea?”

The boy nods quickly. “Yes, please.”

Shay and Haytham sit next to each other at the table as Liam sits down across from them. This is probably the most casual Haytham has felt since… since his father was alive.

Bridgette brings out a tin of biscuits and a tray of tea cups. The tea is… alright. But Haytham can’t complain. He drowns it out with the dry biscuits that seem to be sweeter than the tea. Liam and Bridgette continue talking about their lives and what’s in store for the future.

“How much longer are you staying here?” Shay asks with a mouthful of biscuit.

Haytham has to think for a moment. “I think another month and a half or so. Give or take. I’ve lost track,” he tells truthfully. “I just know at the end of the trip we’re seeing a theatre play.”

“Which play?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Birch hasn’t told me.”

Liam suddenly cuts in. “That man isn’t your father, is he?”

Haytham shakes his head.

“Seems like a right ol’ prick he does,” Liam snaps.

Bridgette looks to him with a frown. “Now, now. It’s not right to speak ill of someone’s guardian in front of them. Sorry, Haytham.”

“It’s alright.”

But Liam scowls to himself and picks up a biscuit. He inspects it before plopping it into his mouth.

Has word gotten around New York of Birch and himself? If so, he’s all but curious on what they say. He know how gossip works. People like to gossip a little too much, especially the older folk. And it gets around quick. He tries his best not to think too much of it.

The rest of the evening is spent with Shay. He learns so much more about this boy that it’s going to be sad goodbye when he leaves. Maybe Birch will have business here again in America in the future and he can find Shay again. But for now, he only thinks of the moment here with Shay.

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gococogo · 8 months

Text

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 2

Pt.1 | Pt.3

「Synopsis」 : Haytham has had enough of indoors and listening to meaningless conversations with Birch and other men. He goes off on his own to explore New York and he runs into a young boy that is very interesting.

「Word count」 : 1.5K

Genre: Coming of Age/Young Love

Paring: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Only a week later does it take for Haytham to wonder off again.

The entire week it’s been paperwork and walking around and talking to people that Haytham has no clue who they are, yet they seem to know him quite well. That isn’t the thing bothering Haytham though. His entire life he’s met people that know him by first and last name and they also know his father as well. Yet when his father was alive he never met them or saw them talking to his father. It seems like he knew more people than Haytham will ever know.

The thing that has been bothering Haytham though is that he has to stand and listen to Birch talk with these men. He isn’t brought into the conversation so he’s forced to stand and think about other stuff. Birch wants him learning from him but it’s very hard when the talking is just plain boring.

He wants to know how to play tag with the boys. He’s watched them from the window of his room when he can. It all but reminds him of home before father died. He did the exact same thing, staring out a window watching others play and laugh all while he had to sit around and do .

Yes, he is happy to be the man that Birch wants. But a new place only has him wanting to go off and look around. And within this week they haven’t done much of that.

So, on the Friday of the week, Haytham sneaks out of the motel. He doesn’t pay no mind to the boys out in the garden because he might be a kid, but he isn’t dumb. And if he went and joined them in the game of tag then he would most certainly get caught. He needs to wonder further.

He ventures out to the streets in his dark blue suit and frills. He tried to tie is hair back like the maids do but a good portions flops out over his face. He most definitely looks like he dressed himself and he gets a few odd looks as he passes by some. But he keeps his head down in case anyone recognises him.

He doesn’t want anyone shouting across the street, “HAYTHAM KENWAY!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON YOUR LONESOME!? YOU’LL CATCH SOMETHING BEING OUT HERE!”

If that happened, he wouldn’t know what to say but he imagines he’d be able to think up of a lie. He just doesn’t know what. So hopefully that little scenario doesn’t happen.

He comes to the markets which is along the docks. It smells strongly of fish and salt, something so different to being served fish at dinner. But it doesn’t turn Haytham away. He’s never experienced this part of living. The lower class and the grime.

But he quickly realizes that his presence may not be wanted in this part of New York. Men and woman look at him, side eyeing him and scowling at him. Haytham catches a few confused expressions as well. Probably wondering why, a first-class boy is here in the market alone.

Before he makes a scene, he finds the closest exit to the market which is along the docks where all the sloops and schooners are. He gets to the edge where a couple of crates are stacked and breathes out, not realizing he had been holding it this entire time. Maybe Birch was right. Maybe he should just stick with his class and be a proper good boy.

He leans up against the crate nearest him and watches one of the sloops slowly leave the dock. Nothing here is as grand of a ship as his father’s ship. He hasn’t seen it in person per say, but he knows it would have been the beauty of the dock here.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” A thick Irish accented voice snaps at him.

Haytham jumps out of his skin, feeling his little heart beat wildly in his ears. Might have skipped a beat if he wasn’t too sure. He spins around, coming face to face with a dark-haired man with a barrel chest. His dark eyes glare down at him like he’s a rat on the streets here. Haytham backs up a bit, his words leaving him once again.

The man steps forward and picks up one of the crates that Haytham was leaning against. He then leaves without a word, walking down the dock to a schooner in the nearest dock.

A boy passes him and comes Haytham’s way. He’s a scruffy looking kid, his long brown hair unbrushed and his clothes look too big for his body. He stops in front of the crates and looks to Haytham with big brown eyes. He looks Haytham’s age but might be a year younger. The boy glances over his shoulder at the man before he picks up one of the smaller crates.

“I’m sorry about my father,” the boy says in the same Irish accent, taking Haytham by surprise. “He can be some what of a mean one when he’s in a mood. And he’s in one of those moods today.”

“Oh,” is all Haytham can manage out.

“SHAY, GET THOSE CRATES ON SO WE CAN FUCKIN’ GO!” The boy’s father calls out from the schooner.

“Coming!” Shay calls back out as he turns and walks down the dock.

Haytham watches him curiously as he fiddles with his sleeves. Shay comes back three more times to pick up the smaller crates but he stops and stares at the biggest one there. Haytham hasn’t moved a muscle, standing and watching the entire time young Shay has been working.

“Wanna help?” Shay asks.

“Pardon?”

“Wanna help me carry this over?”

Haytham can’t help but stare for a moment but stops his stupid act. He can’t let his shyness get the best of him anymore.

Despite him putting his big pants on, his voice still comes out soft with a little, “Sure.”

The two boys grab one end of the crate each and pick it up together with a huff. The crate isn’t heavy with two of them but Shay absolutely could not of picked this up by himself. They waddle over to schooner and Shay tells him where to set it down. Setting it down on deck, Shay’s father comes over with a frown.

“Hah, and I thought you were just another prissy lil boy,” he frowns but his words feel light hearted. “Best be off before we set sail. Don’t want a lil stow away, now do we, aye!”

He pats Haytham on the shoulder before wondering off to the helm of the ship. He speaks to what Haytham assumes is his first mate. The touch on his shoulder lingers. Something he hasn’t received in a long time.

“Are you moved from Britian?” Shay suddenly asks, popping into his line of sight.

Haytham swallows. “I’m just visiting.”

Shay’s mouth turns into a little o. “How long are you staying here in New York?”

“Around three months.”

“Oh. I come back here in five months. My father is travelling down south,” Shay answers a little sadly.

“Oh,” Haytham replies back.

“Be off boy!” Shay’s father cries out suddenly. “We’re sailing off!”

For the second time today, Haytham nearly jumps out of his skin. Without even thinking, he makes his way off the schooner. The board has been pulled back already so Haytham has to jump down onto the dock. He stumbles and falls to his hands and knees, his suit and hands becoming scuffed. He turns around as the ship’s sails are let down.

Shay comes to the railing and looks over as they begin moving. He waves goodbye with a wide smile on his face. Haytham gives a small little wave that only reaches his chest. A small swell of sadness comes to Haytham. The thought that he could of had a friend on this little trip is what finally makes him realize he’s lonely.

The walk back to the motel is slow and with his head bowed low. He kicks a rock along the street with his hands in his pockets. With a too hard of a kick it bounces and rolls into a drain, never to be seen again. That only puts Haytham in a sourer mood.

When the motel comes into sight, he heads around the back to sneak into the garden. He pushes his way through a loose board in the fence and through the bushes as well. Leaves and branches get caught in his hair and he does a poor excuse to try and brush them out. He walks across the gravel path to the back door of the motel and hopes to whatever God there is that Birch hasn’t noticed him gone.

Luckily, no one is in the back foyer or even the entrance. Haytham quickly but quietly races up the stairs and down the hallway to his room. Once inside, he takes a deep breath in.

He plucks a leaf from his hair and lets it fall to the floor. With a small huff, he steps over to the small desk in the corner of his room and opens his journal up. He must write about today and most definitely about Shay.

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gococogo · 7 months

Text

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 3

Pt. 2 | Pt. 4

Synopsis: After two more weeks, Haytham runs into Shay unexpectedly. Shouldn't he be far out at sea? What is he doing back in New York?

Word Count: 1.8K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue/Coming of Age/Young Love

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Underaged drinking

Birch never found out about that little outing. After Haytham had written in his journal, he went and cleaned himself up. He tried his best but he got it done before Birch came back. He had been looking for Haytham and so on the spot, the boy had lied.

“I wasn’t anywhere,” Haytham had responded. “I was here.”

Birch had not liked that answer. The next two weeks Haytham was not let out of Birch’s sight. Everywhere he went, every room he walked into, Haytham had to be at his side. It was worse than before.

It’s a Saturday night at the Greenwich Tavern and it is filled to the brim with drunkards. But apparently this is a perfect place for Birch to talk to some acquaintances about business. Haytham sits at a separate table to himself though, but he is still within Birch’s sight.

He kicks his feet under the chair with his face in his palms. They’ve only just started talking so it’s probably going to be all night that he’s stuck here. From where he’s sitting, Haytham has a good view of what the bar tender is doing behind the counter.

How there’s also a pistol sticking from under the bar. How there’s some special looking drinks that aren’t on the shelf behind the counter as well. And how there’s a little boy down there stealing a bottle from the bar.

Haytham sits up straight as he watches a hand wrap around a bottle and take it down. Then, a boy he knows, sneaks out from behind the bar, past the tender and into the tavern. He rushes past tables before sneaking under one, then shooting for the back door to the tavern. He knows the boy. He just can’t place where he’s seen him before.

A quick glance towards Birch’s way and Haytham is jumping from his seat. What has him so rebellious suddenly when he was never like this in London? Haytham will never know. But it may be the new atmosphere and the different people. And curiosity will run deep in Haytham until he comes of age.

He rushes past the same tables and out the back door where the boy went. Out in the dark, it’s quite hard to see. But Haytham spots the boy sitting next to a tree stump quite easily. Slowly, he walks over until the other notices him.

“Shay?”

Once closer, Haytham can spot the bruises and cuts all over Shay’s tattered form. Is clothes are not the ones he left in, hand me downs that look as if they’ve gone through worse than him. Isn’t he meant to be on a voyage with his father? They should be out far at sea at this point in time. Not here in New York.

Shay looks to him with a little uncertainty, as if he doesn’t know who he is at first. But realization widens his eyes before he frowns in annoyance within the same second.

“Are you okay?” Haytham asks.

Shay pops open the bottle of whatever he has and takes a quick swig of it. He scowls and snarls at the taste.

“No,” Shay sniffles, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears.

A pit of worry settles into Haytham gut. He stands there watching as Shay takes another disgusted swig from the bottle.

“What happened?” Haytham asks as his eyes never leave the bottle.

Shay’s lip quivers as his glassy eyes stare at him. “My father is-“ His voice chokes off into a sob.

He goes for another drink but Haytham snatches the bottle from Shay’s hand. He holds it to his chest so the other can’t reach out and grab it. But Shay only stares at him again with tears flowing down his face.

“This isn’t right,” Haytham says.

“I don’t care,” Shay cries out.

He stands up suddenly and gets into Haytham’s personal space, trying to pry the bottle form his hands.

“Stop it!” Haytham snaps as he pushes Shay away easily.

Shay stumbles backwards but doesn’t fall over. Haytham does the only thing he can think of at current. And that’s to throw the bottle into the side of the stump. Glass and liquor splash everywhere and Shay is speechless. Haytham may have exaggerated a bit, but it got his point across. But Shay doesn’t shout or argue. He turns bleak, his eyes becoming glazed over.

He sits on the stump and cries into his hands. Haytham swallows thickly. Honestly, he doesn’t know what to do in these predicaments. Anytime he has had to cry to himself, he does it alone in his room. Birch doesn’t need to see that, and he’s never seen him cry either.

Haytham sits on the stump next to Shay instead. He looks down at the ground as he grips the edge of the wood.

“What happened?” He asks again.

Only because he heard somewhere that talking about things helped. His neighbours next door said such a thing, but not to his face. He overheard them talking about it, how it’s relieving and refreshing. How it’s meant to take a weight off your shoulders. Writing into his journal helps him. It’s almost like talking to someone but not as quite.

Birch doesn’t pry into there, letting him have that privacy for the boy. Which Haytham is very thankful of. Otherwise he would have never of been able to come to America with him if he found out about all the things he’s done in London.

Haytham waits patiently for Shay. The boy hiccups and wipes away his tears the best he can but his face is still a wet mess. He looks much younger than he is, a small, hurt boy that just wants a hug or a shirt to cry on.

“Our ship crashed,” he finally answers. “All lost to the sea.”

“Your father?”

“Dead.”

The bluntness of the word strikes something in Haytham, he isn’t too sure of. Later down the line he finds it that it was because of his owner father’s passing. Something he hadn’t spoken of much or thought of.

“Oh,” is all Haytham is able to admit out.

It’s not at all grand when the conversation comes to a stand still. Shay sniffles and he seems to retreat to his head as he stares off in space. Haytham tries to think of something to say. Anything really. He knows a similar pain to what Shay is feeling right now. Haytham may not of acted out as such when his own father had died, but his feelings were as strong.

“A boy shouldn’t have to lose to his father. I know what you’re going through,” he says quietly, Haytham’s voice all but a whisper.

But in the night, in the little back court they are in, the sound travels to Shay’s ears. Wet brown eyes look to him. Haytham only nods as he fiddles with his sleeves.

Yet, before Haytham can say another thing. Go on a spew of what he thinks will help Shay, he hears a commotion from inside. Haytham is quick to his feet.

He waits for Birch to come barging out the back door, shouting and screaming his name. He waits for Birch to come up to him and pinch his ear, dragging him all the way back to their motel like those maids do back home. But no one comes through that door, and the yelling and shouting continues.

Shay is on his feet now, already walking back towards the tavern. Haytham follows, his curiosity snatching him back up like a hawk on a rabbit and taking him to that door.

Luckily, the both aren’t noticed re-entering the tavern from the back door. To Haytham’s knowledge.

All eyes are on a pair of fools shouting at each other in the middle of the building. The scrawnier of the pair is being held up to his tippy toes by the much larger man. But he isn’t backing down, shouting his head off. His words slur so badly that Haytham doesn’t think he’s even speaking the King’s English.

Haytham and Shay get caught up in standing out in the middle of the tavern that they don’t see the storm coming their way. Birch grabs Haytham by the upper arm and pulls him away suddenly from Shay. Just like he did with those boys when they first arrived. Haytham shouts out in protest, instantly grabbing onto Birch to try and pry his fingers from digging into his bones. But it only causes him to hold on tighter.

He holds on so tight it brings tears to Haytham’s eyes. He knows there will be a bruise there in the morning to come.

Birch opens his mouth to shout but his face turns up into a scowl. As if something dead just travelled up his nose and died. He sniffs Haytham’s sleeve and recoils with a snarl. Like a dog would to something sour. Whatever he was going to say before, only comes out tenfold.

“Haytham. I am truly disappointed in you,” Birch seethes.

He’s smelt the alcohol on him. Some of it must have splashed onto him without him even noticing.

“Sir, I-“

“Shut it!” Birch hisses through clenched teeth.

Glass shatters behind Birch as the fight between the two break out. But the man isn’t paying them any mind. His full attention is on Haytham and all the Kenway wants to do is go back home. Home to London and sleep in his own bed.

Haytham looks to Shay and unlike the other boys, he hasn’t ran off. Nor does he have a look of fear upon his dirty features. He looks to Birch with a fire that is pure determination. One that has Birch taken off guard for a mere split second.

“You taking him out to drink some?” Birch snaps.

“No,” Shay says darkly.

“I didn’t drink a drop, sir,” Haytham protests, wanting to take the tension off of Shay.

But Birch doesn’t budge. Shay’s energy turns to something of a cornered dog. Ready to bite. And Birch isn’t playing with that. He pulls Haytham more to his side, away from Shay.

“If I see you around this part of town again, I’ll have you arrested and hung boy,” Birch threatens deeply.

Shay screws up his face and throws his hands up in surrender. He plays along, giving a fake smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. This isn’t the boy that was sobbing on the tree trunk a minute ago. A darker side to this boy, like a switch is flipped in his head.

“You won’t,” he seethes.

Then Shay is leaving through the back door. The ruckus going in the tavern feels a lot like the inside of Haytham’s mind. He yanks himself from Birch’s hold and pouts his way back to his table with only one thought on his mind.

That this entire trip is going to be one long living hell and he’ll never be able to make any sort of friends. That he might have to give a listen to Birch’s conversations and business to get some sort of entertainment out of this business trip. But to a boy his age, that all seems proper boring.

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gococogo · 7 months

Text

Childlike Innocence | Shaytham | Pt. 4

Pt. 3 | Pt. 5

Synopsis: Haytham has been grounded to his room and thinks that he'll be stuck here for the rest of time. But Shay comes back, finding Haytham and inviting him out for the night.

And Haytham can't seem to stay away.

Word Count: 3.7K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue/Coming of Age/Young Love

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warning: Vomit

Haytham didn’t listen to Birch or forgive himself to his guardian. As soon as they had gotten home that night, he was grounded to his room for the rest of the trip. Which had sent Haytham into a silent rage.

There was one promise though. If well behaved, Birch would bring him along to the theatre play that they’ll be attending in a month’s time. Which, had put Haytham’s hopes up a little. It still pissed him off though nevertheless.

But in all honesty, staying in the hotel had only lasted one and a half weeks.

Haytham lays in his bed late at night. He hasn’t been able to sleep, as all he’s been doing is sleeping in this damn room. For good behaviour in the last couple of days, he’s been able to wonder around the hotel. But he can’t step outside. Can’t play in the garden. Can’t step outside onto the street. Nothing.

He currently lays on his back and watches the hands tick by on his pocket watch. It was given to him by Birch. It isn’t as nice as the other one he has but Birch prefers him to carry this one around. It’s… cute he must admit. But if it so happen to get dropped and broke, he wouldn’t be all too sad over it.

The hour hand finally ticks over to the ten and Haytham rolls over to his side with a groan. Everyone else has already called in for the night. Birch hasn’t talked to him this entire time and this trip away has become the most boring thing in his entire life. He wishes he stayed home.

He’d rather have the maids looking over him than this. Have them pinch his ears when he’s been naughty rather than the deathly grip that Birch has. The bruise that he left on his arm hasn’t gone away. It’s still as purple and crude as the night it appeared.

Abruptly, something small hits the glass of his window with a small tick. At first, Haytham thinks it’s just the hotel settling.

Then it happens again.

Haytham sits up, holding his pocket watch in his lap. He watches the window and this time, he sees what the cause is. A small pebble hits the glass and bounces off with a small tink. Haytham tilts his head like a confused pup, his mouth a small o. Slowly he makes his way over to the window. He shoves his pocket watch into his pants before opening the window.

The next pebble hits him square in the forehead.

He recoils back with a small shout and rubs his head. He hears two hushed voices cursing and shouting at each other. Quickly before the person can run off, he looks out the window with a shout on the tip of his tongue. But it gets caught in his throat as he spies the person that threw it.

“Shay,” Haytham breathes out.

Shay stands in the garden with a bright smile across his face. He looks so much better than when Haytham last saw him. The torn clothes he wore on the night at the tavern are long gone. He now wears clothes that aren’t torn and tattered. But they still look second hand. His long scaggy hair is somehow tamed but still falls down around his face.

Another boy is with him, much older than both of them but he wouldn’t even be in his twenties. His head is shaven and he wears a long, tatter coat over his huge frame. He grabs Shay by the head and nearly pushes him over.

“You nearly knocked the poor kid out!” He snaps in a hush.

If Haytham thought Shay’s accent was thick, this other’s is something that takes a while to decipher what he has said. Shay regains himself quickly on his feet and looks back to Haytham.

“Come down!” Shay calls out, but only loud enough for Haytham to hear.

“I can’t!” Haytham replies back.

“No one will know you’ve been out,” Shay chuckles back. “Only for tonight. A party is going on down at the Waterfront!”

Waterfront? That’s on the other side of New York.

Haytham bites the inside of his lip and taps the windowsill. He glances behind him, as if Birch is going to barge through that door right now just because he could sense Haytham sneaking out again. But when no one comes, Haytham looks back to Shay.

When will he ever have an opportunity like this again. This is something that he’s always wished for when he was a kid. Someone coming to him and asking to him to join them. Not the other way round where Haytham is always asking to be invited places.

“Give me a second, I’ll be down shortly,” he responds back before closing the window ever so quietly.

Haytham gets dressed in his most casual wear, not wanting to draw anything attention at the lower part of the city. He does slips on one of his old jackets he likes to wear to himself. He brought it only because he couldn’t bear the thought of moths getting to it in London. He slips it on and places his pocket watch into the inside breast. He’ll be able to keep a close eye on the time, not wanting to come too late.

Haytham doesn’t put on his shoes just yet. He keeps them in hand so that when he walks down the hall past Birch’s room, he won’t make as much noise.

He looks unkept, and that’s what he wants.

Slowly, slowly, he opens the door and peeps his head out. He waits, listening to anyone still up and about. But for some reason tonight the hotel is pretty quiet. He wonders if anyone is attending this party? Maybe not. But Haytham doesn’t want to find out if they’re still here or not. He knows Birch is here. He doesn’t quarry in events on the street.

Haytham sneaks down the hall slowly. The boards creak more in the middle where people walk every single day so he sticks to the sides. Carefully, he’s able to pass Birch’s door without a worry. He thought he heard something but he had mistaken a weird noise coming from his own throat for something behind the door.

As soon as he gets to the stairs, the treads down them quickly. He slips on his shoes as he exits the back of the hotel to the garden where Shay is waiting.

“Took your time,” the Irish boy chuckles.

“Hey,” Shay smiles.

Haytham returns the gesture, “Hey.”

The older boy looks between the two and rolls his eyes. “Alright we gotta go, we’re missing it,” he snaps as he’s already walking off to the back of the garden.

He’s big for his age, broad in the shoulders and big hands. Like he’s been working since he was birthed. Haytham comes up beside Shay as the two of them follow the bigger.

“Who’s he?” Haytham asks.

“Oh, that’s Liam. He’s a street kid like myself now,” Shay explains. “He’s been helping me these past few weeks.”

Liam opens up the loose board in the fence for them. “Yes. Thank you for getting him out of that tavern. Lost sight of the bugger that night.”

Shay swears as he slips through the fence. What would of happened if Haytham hadn’t found Shay that night? What would he have done after drinking that much for his age? He realizes quickly he doesn’t want to think of that. He looks to Liam with a little caution.

“I’m Haytham by the way,” the boy introduces himself.

Liam nods. “Shay told me. Get going.” He gestures to the fence. “We’re late as it is.”

Haytham scrambles through the fencing and Liam squeezes himself through right after with a grunt and huff. Liam leads and the boys follow close behind. Haytham doesn’t know these streets like these two and does not plan on getting lost tonight.

“What kind of party is this? Are you invited?” Haytham asks.

Liam hacks out a laugh. “Of course! We’re not party crashers, Haytham!”

“It’s one of Liam’s friends. They’ve been out at sea for two years and have only just come back tonight,” Shay explains properly.

“Shay here wanted you to join,” Liam adds over his shoulder. “Don’t know why though since I’m guessing this type of thing would be way below your class.”

His words are spoken with some sort of envy. Something that hurts Haytham. He doesn’t comment in return, not wanting to sound whiny and snappy. So, he keeps his mouth shut and just stares at Liam’s back.

But Shay notices his silence and bites his inner cheek. He doesn’t want tonight to be filled with unneeded tension.

“I’m sure he’s up for anything. He’s here right now, ain’t he?” Shay comments sharply.

Liam shrugs. “I guess so. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb though.”

“Why?” Haytham finally asks.

Liam turns, walking backwards at the same pace. “The way you hold yourself. The way you talk is a big give away as well,” he says before spinning around again.

Haytham looks at himself, not ever realizing he’s held himself a certain way. Or spoke a particular way. He always guessed it was just from growing up in London. But Americans don’t seem to like them very much these days.

“Don’t worry about him,” Shay says, trying to help.

Liam stays quiet the rest of the way. Haytham and Shay talk amongst themselves. Keeping conversation as they pass through Lower Manhattan and finally to the Waterfront. As they get closer to the docks is when Haytham stops talking. His eyes dart everywhere, taking in everything. He’s never been to this side of New York and the city itself looks so different at night.

As they near the docks, laughter and shouting can be heard. Music can be heard playing but it isn’t good. Out of tune and sluggish. As the three turn the corner, the noise hits Haytham like a slap in the face.

On the dock front, there’s people everywhere. A wide ship is docked and there’s people walking on and off it. Going between there and the small tavern that’s trying to keep up with the crew. Music can be heard coming from inside of the tavern, an old upright piano that is out of tune and someone on a guitar with someone singing behind it. They almost sound as bad as the piano. But the crowd is moving and singing along with them.

This is a type of party that Haytham has never stepped foot in. He’s seen these types of events because Birch and his father always turned a blind eye to them. Saying they aren’t fit for his type of growing up. Now with that in mind, he wants to see what all the fuss is about.

Liam steps into the tavern and Shay follows with. But he finds himself stopping right outside. Just for a moment. What if Liam is right? Is this any place for someone like him? No. No, he’s a Kenway and he’ll be right. He bolts inside, not wanting to be too far behind Shay.

He nearly runs into Shay who’s stopped right in the middle of the tavern. It’s very crowded and Haytham has to keep a hand on the Irish boy’s shoulder so that he isn’t swept away. He quickly realizes this is very different to all those parties Birch has taken him to. But it isn’t bad. It has Haytham wide eyed and taking everything in like if he was seven years old again.

For Haytham, the night goes smoothly and wonderfully. Shay leads him around, showing him around the street and the docks. Haytham checks his watch every now and again, keeping track of the time.

The two of them loose track of Liam for half of the night but find him again in a drinking contest. The Irishman is up against a man that looks like he’s one of the ships crew. His face hardened like leather from the wind and sun blasting him out at sea.

“Come on, Liam!” Shay shouts out over the ear splitting crowd.

Liam downs the last jug of ale before the other and slams it down on the table with a loud crack. He barks a laugh in the sailor’s face, spitting flying everywhere. The sailor looks pissed. He chokes on his own drink and splutters.

“Watch it!” The sailor barks as ale dribbles down his chin.

Liam holds out his hand, leaning into the sailor’s space. “Pay up,” he seethes.

Haytham eyes widen at the pure animalistic nature in both of them. The sailor slaps money into Liam’s hand and grumbles away, yelling and shouting to himself. It’s a bit odd to Haytham. That so much shouting and yelling and threatening can happen without any bloodshed.

Shay suddenly grabs onto Haytham’s hand and drags him over to Liam. The simple gesture has Haytham’s face heating up and he doesn’t know why. He’s had boys and girls his age grab his hand before. He’s had to learn how to dance and such. But all of that is nothing like the electricity that courses through Haytham.

Liam counts the money in hand and when he spots Shay, Haytham notices he begins to half it. He holds out some of the coins to Shay. The young boy looks it with wide eyes.

“Here, lad,” Liam says firmly, shaking the money in hand. “Keep it on you.”

Shay takes it with an eager thank you. It’s only a few dollars Haytham spots but to someone like Shay, this is like gold right now. He turns to Haytham with a big smile and shows him his new found prize. Like a cat showing off its hunt.

“We can go to the barkeep and get something to eat with this,” Shay exclaims loudly.

Actually, something to eat right now sounds really nice. The thought causes Haytham’s stomach to grumble and if it were a silent room, he knows Shay would have heard it.

“Yes, lets go.”

The both of them head up to the counter of the tavern where a bunch of tall, burly sailors block the way. But to Haytham’s surprise, Shay doesn’t care. He begins to squirm his way in between two of them, pushing and shoving. One of them looks down at him and for a moment, stares as if he’s going to throttle Shay. But he takes a step away to let Shay in, a curse of words spilling form his lips that Haytham has never heard.

All while Shay slams the money on the counter and gets them some food, Haytham picks out his pocket watch. He looks to the time and hisses at what he sees. It’s nearly 1 in the morning. He should be heading back soon.

Before Haytham can catch up, his pocket watch is snatched from his hands. Plucked right out of fingers.

“Hey-“ Haytham’s words get caught in his throat at the sight of the man before him.

The scar that runs over his face pulls his lips up to show blackening teeth. Haytham can’t help but screw his nose up at him, the smell from his mouth wafting right down at him. It’s a gnarly sight, one that will have Haytham thinking about long after he’s gone to sleep tonight.

“Nice watch,” the man says as he looks it over in his hands. It’s small compared to him, seeming as small as a marble. “What’s a lil fella like you doing with a watch like this?”

Haytham, for once in his life, builds up the courage to talk back. “Give it back you, brute! It’s mine!”

His voices doesn’t waver once, which is a win in Haytham’s books. But even though he was able to accomplish that, the man before him only smiles the best he can with the scar on his face.

“Mine now. Lil boy like you don’t know the worth you stole aye,” the man chuckles.

Haytham scoffs. Does he truly think Haytham stole the watch? Heat comes to Haytham’s face out of anger, his heart racing. If Birch finds out he’s lost that watch, there would be literal hell to pay.

“Hey!” Shay is suddenly in front of Haytham. “He said give it back!”

The shouting of the two boys has grabbed the attention of half the tavern now. All eyes looking at the two standing up to the scarred face man. All waiting to watch two boys start fighting a man like him.

Another shout comes from across the tavern, but the next events happen so quickly that Haytham has to write it in his journal later to recollect everything.

But, Haytham and Shay are pushed out of the way as Liam comes face to face with the gnarly man. He grabs onto the pocket watch, planning to rip it from his grip but he holds on fast. Liam snarls with spit, drunk and boiling for a fight. He dodges a punch sent his way from the man and that only pisses him off.

Liam recoils his head and cracks his forehead against the man’s nose with a sickening crack. The sound of bone breaking is something Haytham will never forget. This time, Liam is able to wretch the watch from his grip. He takes a couple of steps back, his own head spinning and caning from the power he put into that headbutt. The scarred man curses and scowls, holding his face and Haytham only stares with wide eyes. Blood drip freely from under his hands, coating the front of his shirt crimson.

With all the pushing and shoving, he never saw Liam take the pocket watch. So, when Liam pushes the two boys away from the man, his mind is only on one thing. On how Birch is going to throttle him tomorrow.

“Let’s get out of here,” Liam slurs, ushering the two boys of the growing crowd.

Liam pushes his way out of the tavern and onto the street quickly, all while making sure that the two are still following. Everything moves so quickly that it’s not until they’re out of harms way a few good blocks down does everything come back to Haytham. And he feels a little numb. He flinches when a gentle hand grabs his shoulder. He looks to who owns the hand and it’s just Shay.

“Are you alright?” the Irish boy asks.

Haytham swallows thickly. “Of course.”

Liam stops and lets out a long, throaty sigh. He rubs his face and wonders over to a broken wagon on the side of the street. He sits down on the back of it and takes his face into his hands. Haytham glances to Shay, as if asking what’s wrong. Shay only shrugs in response.

“I must be getting back,” Haytham chips up.

Liam doesn’t budge. Haytham swallows thickly. He does not know this man but he’s relying on him to get his way back to Greenwich. He doesn’t know this place. Everywhere he looks is strange and new.

Haytham exhales loudly and lets his shoulders droop. How is he going to explain this in the morning? That’s if he ever gets back to the hotel.

“Do you know your way back?” Haytham asks Shay.

The boy shakes his head. “Not in the dark. It’s different.”

It’s quiet for a moment, both boys just standing in the middle of the street unknowing of what to do. Away from the party, New York is oddly quiet. Especially at this time of the morning.

“Did you like tonight?” Shay asks suddenly.

Haytham looks to him with wide eyes. “Um, yes I did.” He responds truthfully. “Apart from losing my watch, I liked it. It was different.”

“What are you use to?” Shay asks out of pure curiosity.

“Balls. Formal balls and get togethers where the only music is soft violins and pianos. Nothing like that.”

“Oh,” Shay thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a violin before.”

“Never?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

Liam suddenly stands up, grabbing the boys attention. He wavers on his feet before leaning up against the nearest building. And with a hurl of his shoulders, Liam bring up the contents of his stomach onto the side of the street. It’s a loud sound, one that has Haytham’s own stomach curdling and his face scrunching up in disgust.

“Oh,” is all Shay is able to say.

Another hurl follows the first, this one lesser but sounding more painful. Seems like that competition didn’t sit right with his gut. Liam wipes his mouth and turns to them as he clears his throat.

He walks up to Haytham with his hand deep into his pants pocket. He grabs something out and when he presents it to Haytham, his eyes go wide. His pocket watch. Haytham takes it a little too eagerly, a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you,” Haytham breathes out.

“Yeah, well,” Liam coughs, “Let’s get you home now,” he waves a hand as he starts off down the street again.

Haytham and Shay quickly follow behind shoulder to shoulder, not wanting to get lost in New York in these early hours of the day. Shay looks at the watch in Haytham’s hand with wide eyes.

“Nice watch,” he comments.

“Oh,” Haytham holds up the pocket watch as if seeing it in a new light. “Thanks?” He sounds a little unsure.

“You don’t like it?” Shay asks.

“No. Well… I don’t know,” Haytham admits.

He shoves it back into his pocket out of sight. To Shay it would be a grand watch. But to Haytham’s eye it’s boring. Funny how the two of them see things in such a different way. But maybe that’s what Haytham finds so interesting in Shay compared to everyone else he’s met. Shay’s, different. In a good way. In a way that has Haytham wanting to know more. In a way that makes him want to see things in Shay’s eyes.

Maybe in another life time though. Tonight is just for the young boys that don’t know why their hearts beat quicker when in each other’s presence.

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