"Oh my sweet Butterfly, what did you do to yourself?" Fresh's eyes widened once he saw my mangled wrists. I opened my mouth to speak but all that happened was that I just broke down crying.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to say what happened. No voice. Just sobs.
And he didn't even say anything. He just hugged me.
Minutes passed like that in silence, with my head leaning against his bare chest, before he let go of me.
"Why didn't you call me before you cut yourself?" He asked, gently holding my wrists as he examined the scars.
No response. With every word I spoke my throat contracted and prevented me from telling him anything.
"C'mon, let's patch you up." He sighed, taking me by the hand and walked into the bathroom. Even now I still can't stop crying. I can't even breathe without my breaths being interrupted by a dozen sniffs. Fresh gently placed my wrists under the tap, and ran warm water over them. It stung for a split moment, but after a little while the pain started to cease. As the water cleaned my wounds, Fresh bent down and opened the cupboard underneath the sink. And when he came back up, he had a little plastic container the size of a shoebox. When he opened it, there was an array of bandages, creams, ointments, all the like. How come I didn't know there was a first aid kit in my own bathroom? He took a towel, dried my wrists and examined them with focused eyes. Like he was determined. Like he cares. At this point my hiccuping has tamed itself. The tears were still running down my face though. I can't take my eyes off of the red and white stripes that littered my wrists no matter how hard I tried to take my eyes off them. And the feeling in my heart was pure Pain.
Pain.
Pain, like the clawed hand that grasps your heart tightly, sinking its nails deep into your flesh.
Pain, like the black hole that devours your soul, bit by bit, until there's nothing left but an empty shell.
Pain, like the oceans of sorrow that drown you, as the hands of agony drag you deeper, sinking you into a deep, despair-filled, watery grave.
Until a voice broke my trance.
"Okay, Sweetheart, this is gonna hurt a little bit, but just stay with me, okay?"
'O-Okay...'
When he squeezed out a white paste, he instantly applied it on my scars. I felt a sharp sting at my wounds, followed by a warm relief. I sighed. After that, Fresh reached into the box and pulled out a roll of bandages. He wrapped them around my wrists, pure white hiding away the red tainted skin. Once the angry, crimson bloodshed was hidden away from my sight and replaced by a calming white, I finally stopped crying.
"You feeling alright?" Fresh asked, looking in my eyes with a deep concern. Why is he caring about me?
'I guess I'm okay...' I sighed. I avoided his gaze, just staring at the porcelain floor.
"Alright, I'm not taking that for an answer, c'mon." He said, and before I knew it, I was swept off my feet and into his big arms. My eyes widened as he took me back into the main bedroom and propped me down on the bed. He pulled the covers over my shoulders and stroked my hair. I didn't want him to stop. He smiled a tired smile as a look that said "I care" swam around in his eyes. I felt guilty for calling him in the middle of the night over here for me.
"I'm sorry..." I mumbled, still hiccuping a little bit
'For what?'
"For waking you up..."
'Hey, it's fine, really, Butterfly, all that matters is that you're okay.' He smiled widely. 'It's getting quite late, are you feeling tired, Sweetheart?'
"I... I guess."
He smiled wider, petting my head affectionately. He looked so gentle like this. So gentle I almost forgot about the monster I saw a few hours ago. No, his eyes were filled with care and affection, with a tinge of emptiness and tiredness.
'Alright.'
And what happened next was a moment that, even in my sleepy daze, I will never forget.
He pressed his warm, soft lips against my forehead.
My eyes widened at the sudden affectionate touch, a touch that I have never experienced before in my life. Not even from my own mother, whoever she was.
"Well, I'm gonna go to bed now, call me if you need me, okay?"
No response.
"Okay, See you later, Beautiful-"
'Wait.' I interrupted him as he was just about to turn around.
"What is it?"
'Um... can you... stay the night with me...?'
A moments of silence echoed through the room as we both stared at each other. I know it sounded childish, asking him to stay the night with me, but he invited himself into my own bed at one point, so now I'm doing the same. Well... Sorta? I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. At the orphanage me and my roommates sometimes slept in the same bed during the particularly harsh winter nights, but even then they felt so distant. And now that I actually have the option of a warm, kind, close human presence to comfort me, why would I say no?
He chuckled to himself.
"You're honestly adorable." He laughed as he lifted up the covers on the other side of my bed and slipped in. He covered it above his shoulders, and laid his head down on a pillow. I snuggled closer to him, and a second later, Fresh started doing the same, picking up on my cue.
Our bodies were only inches apart now.
He repositioned himself onto his back, and I examined his face.
It was relaxed, with mild undertones of sadness. He looked like he needed a hug.
And I don't know if it's just in my sleepy daze or my innate desire for love and warmth, but I just snuggled up against him. I rested my head against his muscular shoulder and closed my arms around the entirety of his upper torso. Hell, it was so big that my arms couldn't even reach the entire Circumference of it.
The warmth was like an anchor attacked to me, keeping me grounded. Keeping the negative emotions at bay. Keeping me feeling safe, protected and loved. A warmth seeped into my heart and filled it with a joy that felt so sweet and so tender to my broken, aching heart.
And I swear, as I was starting to slip away into the embrace of sleep, there was a smile on Fresh's face.
In my dreams, I saw a third mysterious, unidentified figure. I swear I have never seen this guy in my life.
Just like the weird pentagon and the mysterious square lady, this man was no different.
Warm, blond, curly hair styled in a cute yet civilised manner framed his tanned skin, adorned with freckles that covered a majority of his face. The eyes were like beautiful, warm, golden suns in his eyes, beaming a positive, kind yellow that warmed my heart. His headphones were pure white, a trait that seemed exclusive to this guy and the other mysterious people in my dreams. And the design - a Yellow Circle.
His clothes were reminiscent of a roman toga, pure yellow with white circle adorning the hem. Its skirt stopped just above the knee.
"Damn, you're lucky." He giggled. His voice was very fitting for his appearance, warm, joyous and chipper. Other than the mysterious square lady, this Peculiar circle is the first to properly speak to me. "Many people'll kill to be in your position."
'What?' I responded.
"The guy's sexy, isn't he?"
'Hold up, what're you getting at? Are you talking about Fresh?'
"Ah, Fresh? That's what he's calling himself now? Yeah, I am talking about him. So, you think he's sexy?"
'Hold on. Who even are you?'
"So you're telling me that he never even mentioned me?" He looked almost offended. But quickly, he interrupted that offended look with a laugh.
"I'm just kidding with ya, Hun, anyways, answer the question, you think he's sexy?"
'I-I-I- Um...'
"Of course you do, what am I saying! Seriously, that guy got himself the prettiest girl in the entire world!"
'His fiancee?'
"Who else but that beautiful woman? But you're just as beautiful as her, Sweetie."
'Sweetie?' I felt my cheeks warming up.
"You haven't met her yet, but keep an eye out. I see you've met the rest of Fresh's friends?"
'What do you mean the rest of his friends?'
"Green Pentagon, Blue Square?"
'Oh yeah."
"Their names are Aster and Tesseract, by the way."
Aster and Tesseract? That's the names of the mysterious people who are appearing in my dreams? Those are pretty interesting names. I'll take note of that, next time I see them I'll talk to them. Fresh's friends? They must be the ones he always talks about!
'And you?'
"Anyways, time's running out, see ya!" He smiled, stuck his tongue out and bowed.
'Wait, who even are you?'
He just smiled.
And then I woke up.
I swear to god, WHO EVEN ARE THESE PEOPLE?
First this weird Green Pentagon, next this mysterious Blue Square, now this peculiar Yellow Circle, what next the unusual White Triangle?
But as I looked around my room, I felt an extra presence. Oh yeah. What happened last night. It was a lot to take in, but as I recalled the events that happened, I all of a sudden realised something I failed to notice the night before.
Did Fresh come into my room, clean my wounds and sleeps with me without a shirt on?
I stared at his bare, glistening, muscular chest. It was rising and falling as he snored gently.
Sometime during the night, one of us must've kicked the bedcovers off, because the covers only covered up to his hips.
But rather than feeling things like embarrassment and wonder, I was actually shocked.
Scars. Scars littered his torso and covered it. Scars on his chest. Stars on his stomach. Scars almost everywhere. Deep, pale gashes covered his torso. And above all, the one that stood out the most was one circular in his chest. Like someone had shot a laser beam through his chest.
They looked painful, even though they were fully healed.
How did he get them?
And almost as if my body was doing the thinking for my mind, I brushed my fingers against his host skin, trailing across a painful looking one that went from the bottom of his left ribcage to his hip on the opposite side.
"Pretty gnarly, eh?"
I immediately yanked my hand away, startled by the sudden voice. He opened his eyes and smiled at me.
'I thought you were asleep.'
"I was." He yawned as he sat up.
'How did you get those...?' I asked, pointing at his chest.
"Eh, shit happened. Got Corrupted." He smiled. "Plus, that's no the worst of it."
'What is?'
He looked me dead in the eye as he lifted up his left leg for me to see.
"WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR LEG?" I found myself yelling as I jolted. "I MEAN- Oh shit, I can't believe what I've just said..."
He just laughed.
'Lost it.' He looked at his leg. He didn't have a foot, not a lower leg, no, wherever 3/4 of his leg was, it was definitely not attached to where it's supposed to be. It was just a stump. It was perfectly clean, a flesh-coloured mound at the end of his leg. How did he lose his leg? And more importantly...
"B-b-but... I've... seen you walk around normally..."
Fresh didn't even say anything, he just lifted his amputated thigh up, and a pink aura formed the shape of a leg on the end of it, knees, foot and all. After a few seconds, a physical form started to take place, growing from the stump like a plant. And slowly, a prosthetic emerged, made purely out of Corrupted energy. It was shaped like the leg armour of a knight, and glistened like such.
I didn't realise that my jaw hung open until Fresh started laughing at the look on my face.
"You can touch it if you like."
And so I did.
It was no way this thing was made of metal, but it did feel like it. It was cold, solid and made a hollow, metallic noise when you banged on it. I recall whenever I walked with Fresh I would hear a faint CLANK-like sound whenever he took a step. So this was what made that noise.
"Can you feel anything?" I asked as I stroked his metallic calf.
'Every bit of it.' He smiled. 'I usually disengage it whenever I go to bed.'
"Ah."
'You know Darlin', something I've always wondered, if I take my leg and throw it at you, would I be hitting or kicking you?'
"You would traumatise me more than anything else."
We both laughed.
"I'm sorry, by the way." I apologised.
'For what?'
"For calling you a murderer."
'Ah, no problem.'
"I don't really think you're a murderer."
'Oh, I know.' He chuckled and looked down. He paused a little bit. 'But you're not wrong.'
"What do you mean 'you're not wrong'?"
He didn't respond for a while.
"Fresh?" I asked him. He looked up, but didn't say anything. "What're you hiding?"
'Nothing, it's okay, nothing important-'
"You're bottling things in, aren't you? I know that look too well. Mordecai has that habit."
He pursed his lips.
"Listen. Sometimes it's better to just let things out. I found that it helps for me. Even if it's just like, to a stuffed animal or a wall, talking about it really really helps. And I'll always be here to listen to you, whatever your story is. You've done the same for me, Darling, so why wouldn't I return the favour? Tell me."
He thought deeply to himself.
"Okay. But before anything, I'm gonna have to tell you something."
'What is it?'
"Fresh isn't my real name."
'Yeah, I figured, who the hell would name their kid Fresh?'
He laughed.
"My real name... well, Please promise me you wouldn't laugh?"
'Promise.'
"...It's Circumference."
'Circumference? Seriously? As in the circle?"
"Yep."
'Ah. Why'd you call yourself Fresh though?'
"Long story, tell you later, but yeah, anyways. Honey, have you ever wondered exactly why I don't have a heartbeat?"
'It's because you're Corrupted?'
"Well, kinda." he shrugged. "But it's really because I'm dead."
The word dead echoed through the silent room. I stared at him. He's dead? Fresh's dead? I mean, I shouldn't be surprised, he doesn't have a friggin' heartbeat, of COURSE he's not alive, but his skin, everything is so warm... He still breathes, so how is he still alive?
'Dead?'
"Dead. I got Corrupted around the same time I died. It's the only reason why I'm breathing and talking to you right now."
'Oh. How did you die?'
He paused.
"My fiancée Killed me."
His fiancée.
The woman he always described as the most beautiful, the most alluring woman to ever walk the earth
Was the same person who killed him?
A sense of dread weighed my heart down, sinking it to the bottom of my shoes. I put my hand on his shoulder.
"She was also the one who Corrupted me too."
Corruption as well?
But he spoke about his supposed Fiancée and the person who corrupted him in such different lights, it was like he was talking about two completely different people! So how come... How come they're the same person?
'Why?' I asked, feeling sorry for him.
He just shrugged.
"I always suspected that she and my other friends were plotting something behind my back. It might've had something to do with the fact that I was growing stronger and stronger. They might've been jealous or scared of me. But this one guy, this one guy directly insulted my beautiful Fiancée right in front of me, and... well, I accidentally killed him."
'Oh.'
"And that one, simple incident was enough for all three of them to actually go ahead and murder me."
Silence. Fresh's eyes were filled with a cocktail of hatred and sorrow. Like he felt conflicting emotions towards his best friends and woman he loved.
"One took my leg. One took my eye. And finally, my beautiful, gorgeous Fiancée, took my life."
He pointed at the scar above his right eye, the one that was coloured black. Was this eye created by Corruption just like his leg? That's probably it.
'Why do you talk about them in completely different lights though? One moment you're like "oooh, I love them! They were the best!" and the next you're like "I hate them and I want to see them dead.'
"I'll tell you later."
"Jeez, okay."
"I dunno why, but I didn't stay dead for very long. At first I didn't know what exactly bought be back, but thinking back, it was definitely Corruption. Those bastards killed me, and Corrupted me as well. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not die. I've jumped off buildings, stabbed myself countless times to try and kill myself, but no. Corruption is not keeping me alive, it's forcing me alive. I can't believe it. My beloved Fiancée CORRUPTED me and forced me to stay alive."
Silence. The tense veil of stillness covered us. I tried to process everything that was happening. What do I believe? What do I not believe?
"'course." Fresh sighed. "That's why I ended up killing her."