Adoring Lions: Blood-arc Series, #2 - (BoyxBoyxBoy)

Chapter 2 - Take This Sickness Away From Me

 

-Picture of Art.

 

There was something about being on a floating man-made thing in the middle of nowhere - moving on top of the merciless waves - that made the whole aspect of being on a ship more terrifying to Art. Whenever he looked around all he could see was water, water and more water. It was an endless cloth of deep blue all the time. 

He hated it, he hated every single part of it. 

There was a knawing sense in the very back of his gut that twisted his stomach. The feeling made him feel a dark impending kind of feeling, the type you get just before something out of the ordinary happens. But maybe Art was beginning to become delusional. It could just be his uncertainty making him feel like this. He didn't really know where it spawned from, yet it was there and srong. 

"Oh, fuck it all. I'm starting to lose my mind." Art whispered to himself.

He ran a tired hand across his face. It had only been five days since the ship left its port and moved. The whole time while the other passengers bathed in the marvel and services the cruise offered, Art remained sullen.

As he sat on an empty stool by the corner of the outer deck, he stared at the churning waves below. In his lap he felt the shaking of his hands. This came naturally to him now, and most of the time he didn't even notice it anymore. Ever since his parents had died, he'd come to hate riding on any type of transportation. A fear and trauma was attached to certain things that reminded him of the cruel reality - being around crowds was one, riding on transportations was another. 

The further Art sat and dwelled on it, the more it came back to him - the screams, the fear of dying, the fear of losing them. Well, the fear of losing them came true...

A couple that stood by the railings on the deck right beside him suddenly took notice of the boy. They frowned at him, clearly disgusted by Art. But then the woman was the first to notice the boy's pale face. 

His hands were shaking, no tears in his eyes. Yet he looked like death had taken him.

He looked like he was drowning where he sat. 

The woman called on her male lover, tugging on his sleeve. He turned, eyes stopping dead on the trembling teen. "...Hey." The man called. 

Someone's voice snapped Art out of his state. He turned and met a frightened stare.

"Are you ok, boy?" The woman beside the man stared as well. "You look...like you're about to faint."

The shaking stopped, the fear dissapated into the cold morning air. Art straightenened up, his face twisted into one of pain like he'd just been stabbed in the chest by a knife. Without a single breath of a word, Art pushed away from the couple with bucking knees.

His hands clutched at his stomach and he felt sick again. After days on this thing, he didn't how long he could endure the dizziness and memories the thing would bring back. 

He pushed his way past the other customers, ignoring their curses and angry shouts at him when he stumbled into them. He reached the row of bathrooms and pushed his way through, walking on like a ghost. He dropped onto his knees after he found an empty stall, and sank onto the cold floor. 

For the tenth time in the trip, he threw up whatever little content he had in his stomach out. For the second time since he woke up at seven in the morning, he emptied his insides out.