Fresh woke up that night in a cold sweat. A cold dew covered his forehead as he gripped his bedsheets in a white-knuckled fist, sitting bolt upright in his bed. It was a dream. Thank god it was a dream. He'd hate to relive those moments. He was always a night owl, so he first fell asleep at around two or so in the morning, but the time now, well, it was hard to tell. But without a doubt, it was still very early in the morning. He checked a clock, and it read 4:52. It was almost five in the morning, normally he wouldn't be awake for another six hours. He collapsed into the bed, bare chest glistening with sweat, and then realised that there was something in his eyes. He was tearing up, crying. He mentally punched himself. You're a man, Fresh, you're not a baby, man up, don't cry. He muttered to himself. The tears stopped, but the terror, pain and brokenness in his heart didn't. He needed to calm down before he started crying again. He was so thankful that nobody was there, he didn't want anyone to see him like this. So weak. So pathetic. So vulnerable. Then the door creaked open, his heart skipping a beat when possibilities ran through his mind - Who was there? The person he was dreaming about? A servant? But then a tiny silhouette of a fluffy ball leapt up onto the bed, and nuzzled against him. Dumpling sensed that her master wasn't feeling well, and needed her warmth. And that she gave, as she snuggled up against Fresh's chest and started purring. He smiled as he cuddled her, soaking in every bit of the calmness that the tiny kitten emitted. Previously she had been the emotional anchor for someone else, but then she sensed an even greater need, so she raced off to Fresh's side.
"Oh Dumpling" Fresh said. "What could I do without you?"
Dumpling mewed.
"What do you think I should do? I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep for quite a while after that nightmare."
Dumpling mewed yet again.
"Play the guitar, you say? Dumpling, you are a genius." Fresh smiled as he sat up. Dumpling did the same, watching him curiously as he sat on the edge of his bed and reached over for the Electric Guitar in the corner of his room. It was sleek and black, and rested on his hips perfectly. Though, he did have a hard time balancing it when he was sitting down. He connected it to a small amp, tuned it, and started playing a familiar lullaby that reminded him of home.
Home.
Home, where he picnicked with his friends and joked around with them as they ran through crisp green fields. Home, where he swam in the deep blue sea during the hot summer days. Home, where he drank hot, aromatic mushroom soup in little huts during the harsh winters. And home, where he sang folk songs with groups of people around bonfires, dancing around them without a single care in the world as smoke wisps, joyous voices and merry spirits rose up into the night air.
But home was but a faraway dream now, a dream that always sank out of reach whenever Fresh tried to grasp for it, seeping through his fingers like grains of sand or clouds of smoke. He would never be reunited with the villages of kind souls who sang, danced, laughed and cried with him. He would never be able to sing those very same beautiful, melodic songs again, because he had forgotten the words, though the tune still lingered in his mind. And most heartbreakingly of all, he would never be able to see his friends, not even his beautiful fiancée, for they were all long dead. Though, that was to change.
He was dead without them.
He played and played until his fingers were numb, and he finally felt like he could sleep. Dumpling had at some point purred herself to sleep to the tune of the lullaby, and he smiled. Now, it it were any other day, ribbons of amber sunlight would be stretching past the horizon and blending the sky into a beautiful golden hue, but now the sky was a permanent dark pink and showed no such signs of daybreak. He lifted Dumpling up, stirring her from her sleep, and pulled the covers over the two of them. She fell asleep, purring gently, and so did Fresh, with a sweet, homesick smile on his face.
I was woken up by a rough knock at the door.
"Go awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay" I mumbled as I rolled over, puling the bedcovers over my head. I had fallen asleep in nothing but my underwear, but the bed itself was more than capable of reflecting my body warmth back to me and keeping me warm, like there was a person beside me feeding me a tender warmth. Right now, the bed felt like a soft cloud embracing me, and I didn't want to get out. I was starting to fall asleep again, when the same knock came at my door again, louder this time.
"Piss off!" I yelled, voice cracking.
The knocking came again, much louder than the first two times, so loud I was afraid that whoever was knocking would break their hand.
"Alright, fine! What is it? Come in!" I snapped, sitting bolt upright. A Corrupted walked into my room, and to my surprise, she spoke.
'It is time for breakfast, m'lady.' She bowed. Her voice was strangely soothing and calming, which contradicted her Corrupted appearance. The Corrupted can talk? I've never heard one speak before, was it just something they could only do if they were ordered to? A moment passed by between us in silence, before I responded "O-Okay, thank you."
She didn't speak after that, she bowed, left the room and I started getting dressed.
I wonder who was playing that beautiful song last night?
Afterwards, I left the room, and made my way to the dining room. I opened the door, and I immediately saw Fresh sleeping in his usual seat, face flat on the table as an unholy snore echoed through the room.
"...Fresh what the fuck" I muttered to myself. "Oi. Oi, Fresh, wake up."
He snorted, rose up, blinking away what was left of his sleepiness. I realised that there was a dark shadow underneath his eyes. He looked at me, stared before smiling.
"Mornin'"
'Morning.' I replied.
"Jesus, (Y/N), you're looking like a panda. You sleep well last night?"
'No.'
"Thought so. Neither did I."
'Why?'
"Nothing." He lied. "Anyways, did you dream of any-"
His sentence was interrupted by a sudden silence as he doubled over and banged his face against the table. He lay there motionless, so motionless that I was wondering if he was even alive - before he started snoring.
"FRESH WAKE UP"
He snorted again, sat straight up, and the moment he did, a Corrupted entered the room holding a large coffee pot, a mug, a pitcher of milk and seperate small bowl of sugar cubes. He eagerly made himself a cup, sipped at it, and almost instantly his sleepiness vaporised.
"Want a cup?"
'I'm more a tea person.'
"Alrightio, get her a cup of tea, Andrea." He said to the Corrupted who gave him the coffee. She swiftly left, and returned a few minutes later with the exact setup as Fresh only with a teapot instead of a coffee pot.
I drank up, as I did, I caught a look at him. He was tired, very very tired, did he have a hard time falling sleep last night just like I did? I wonder why, was it boredom? Business? Was it-
Then, the memory of last night hit me in the face like a train.
I want to see them suffer, Jonathan, I want those fucks to beg me to kill them like the animals they are.
I don't know Fresh.
I'm not sure if the kind soul who gave me a place to stay, a warm comfort I never felt before, and a single pink rose, was the real Fresh or not, I don't know if the hatred I heard last night was genuine or not, I don't know what parts about him were real and what parts weren't. I don't know Fresh.
That same anxiety concerning Fresh was what kept me from eating my food when it arrived.
"Butterfly?" He asked.
'Y-Yeah?'
"What's the matter?"
'What do you mean, What's the matter? I'm perfectly fine!'
"Well, you're not eating, for one, and you look... really tense."
'N-nothing, Nothing, I'm fine'
"I told you, you can tell me anything, now, what's wrong?"
I was silent.
"Who were you talking about?" I said after gathering my confidence.
'What do you mean? I didn't talk about anyone, did I?'
"Last night before dinner I heard you talking about some people... You said stuff like 'I want to see them suffer' and 'If you thought that I was gonna show mercy then you're wrong' or something like that, who're you talking about? And what did they do?"
Fresh's shoulders sagged.
I had expected him to look at me with a shock, a rage, an angry "Who gave you permission to listen in my conversations?", anything that suggested an angry monster. But what I got instead, was a look of defeat.
'I thought that was the case.'
"Answer the question."
Fresh sighed, leaned back, and looked into the distance with a blank look.
'Why do you think I don't have a heartbeat?'
"Because... you're a... um... Not human?"
'Exactly. I said that something happened that... well, turned me not human. What do you think happened?'
"I don't know?"
'They. Turned me into this... this thing.' Fresh's eyes were emotionless. 'I'm Corrupted, (Y/N), I was the very first Corrupted to walk this earth. And that was courtesy of those pieces of shit. They made me this Monster.'
"They Corrupted you?"
'Yeah. The rest of the Corrupted you see can be uncorrupted, can be Purified, but not me. No. I can never be purified. I'm gonna be stuck like this for the rest of eternity, I'm gonna be a monster for the rest of eternity. All because of their ignorance. All because of their cowardice. All because of their fear.'
'What exactly happened?'
Fresh's expression darkened. He was upset. He was mad. He was scared. He wasn't mad at me, he was mad at them, whoever they were. The emotion behind his mismatched eyes was mixed, very mixed. I could see a cocktail in his eyes; The burning wildfire of hatred and rage, the bitter cold of terror, the emptiness and helplessness of depression, just to name a few.
Then, his expression relaxed.
"Don't... Don't ask me that question ever again." He sighed. "I don't like to talk about it."
'Oh... I'm sorry.'
"It's fine, it's fine."
Then, I got up and hugged him. He tensed up before hugging me back.
I could feel a shakiness in his voice, in his body, in his heart. Whatever happened to him must've been very traumatic.
Now, it feels as if the roles during that time he confronted me about my scars were switched. He was now in need of warmth, in need of comfort, and I happily providing him with such. I very genuinely wished that he was alright, which was a complete 180 from what I was thinking of him last night.
"If you ever do wanna talk about it, I'll always be here." I told him.
'Thank you' He responded. He relaxed further, hugged me tighter, and I think I could sense a smile in his voice.
I then realised that hugging him for this long must be pretty awkward, so I wanted to let go, but he didn't. He didn't let go, I don't think he wanted to. And who am I to disobey a king? So I just hugged him back, ready to release him whenever he felt like releasing me. Which, well, was gonna be a while since minutes passed and there was still no sign of letting go.
Then the door opened, whoever was walking through them walked in, froze in their tracks and a silence passed between us all.
"Um... Am I interrupting something?" Mordecai asked after moments of silence.
'No no no, come in, what is it?' Fresh responded, letting me go.
Mordecai shot a glance at me, which I interpreted as "What the fuck was going on?"
I shot one back, this time with the intended message "Tell you later."
He seemed to understand, as he nodded, looked back at Fresh, and said "Just came to check up on (Y/N). Don't mind me, I'll leave now, if you'll excuse me."
Fresh dismissed him as he had no need for anything, and turned back to me.
"Man does having a Corrupted Servant with free will feel really weird."