Mists of Celeste - an Ateez Fanfic

act one ➻​​​ part two

Spending four days trapped in a cramped box in a cargo bay with nothing except for spools of fabric to keep you company is certainly not your definition of a good time. No one would find this dreadful situation fun. To make matters worse, you aren't stuck in a box on just any spaceship. No, your luck would deem it to be the ship of the most notorious and dangerous pirate across the galaxy. Thrilling, no?

No, most certainly not thrilling.

During your time spent in the lovely little box, you have started to notice small bits and pieces of information about the ship you are hiding on. Notably, the crates packed full of food. You've been able to keep a full stomach off that alone, although water has been a bit elusive over the past two days. Now, on the fifth day, you are hoping to get a better source of liquid than you have currently, which is draining the juice from cans and jars of fruit. Attempting to hide the used canisters was only hard the first day you were aboard the Scourge's ship, but now you have a method of placing the used jars in the middle of each crate and covering them with full ones so that it doesn't look suspicious.

People come and go from the cargo bay, but no one stays long. You've noticed that it is the same three people who make rotations through the hold. You haven't been able to catch sight of them since you spend most your time curled in a crate, but the sound of footsteps sounds different each time. Three different patterns and you've had plenty of time to analyze the differences since you do nothing except stare into darkness all the time. It's only ever one person who comes by the cargo bay, those three making the same trek, and that's what helps you keep track of the time.

There are zero indicators of time down here. The lights only turn on when someone enters the bay. No windows in the room either, although that wouldn't serve any purpose because being in space already means having a bad sense of time, but you didn't bring a watch to keep track. Then again, things weren't supposed to go down the way they did. You can't complain too much because if the Scourge and his crew hadn't come through, you would've gotten a bullet in the skull rather than one in your arm.

Today is no different than the last four. You wake up to darkness, and the only reason you know your eyes are even open is because of the feel of your eyelids pressing together. And of course, the searing pain that radiates from your right arm the moment you wake up. You haven't been able to check up on the wound. All your time spent out of the crate is time spent rushing to get food or drink then hurrying back to your same hiding spot. The pain has certainly gotten much worse over the past few days, the bullet still lodged in your flesh, and the blood still oozing out whenever you so much as bump it on the wall of the crate. The weather in the cargo bay is rather hot, no doubt partially due to the stuffiness within your hiding place. Even without the crate though, you would know that the amount of sweat leaking from your forehead and body is unnatural.

Fever. That is the only explanation. Fever, however, means infection, and infection means that the bullet in your arm is only causing more issues as time goes on. If the wound is infected already, then you don't have enough time to remain stuffed in a crate for who knows how long. In other words, you are slowly dying, and it is not your life's goal to be found dead in a storage crate full of fabric.

Perhaps fate is smiling down on you at the moment because today is your lucky day. The door of the cargo bay clicks open, signaling the time for a routine check. It should only take five minutes or so but you are holding your breath out of fear of being caught.

"Hmm... nothing new," a voice calls out. It isn't a familiar one; at least it doesn't sound like the only two you know. No one makes a habit of speaking when they come into the cargo hold, so this is new. "Pretty good at hiding your tracks."

Despite your fever and sweat, you feel cold all of a sudden. Your blood runs cold at the insinuation behind the words. He knows... He knows I'm here. No, wait. He could be talking to someone else. Maybe someone came with him this time? You wait five, ten seconds in the hopes that someone will respond to him but no one does.