"Fresh, what happened?" I asked the drunken man as I sat him down on his bed. The light that radiated from the ceiling of his room gave me a clear view of his injuries. The duvet was crumpled and messy, sagging under his weight. Despite the pain he must be in right now, he giggled to himself as his cheeks flushed red. Examining his right palm, I saw shards of broken glass puncturing the skin, embedded deep in his flesh. The blood that leaked out was as pink as the man himself. There should be a first aid kit in his bathroom, if there was one in mine. The poor man... Why did he decide to drink so much? Was it because he was stressed about the presence of the four shapes that threatened his life?
"I 'unno" He slurred. "I just saw a gurl in white... An' then I fell o'er.."
'You... fell over.' I sighed. He didn't seem to take me leaving the room very kindly, as when I tried to get up I felt a grip on my wrist along with a deep "Nooooooooooo..."
'Fresh, Honey, I'm gonna get some bandages so I can patch up your hand, I'll be back in literally ten seconds.'
"Don't leeeeaaaave meeeeeeeeeee" He whined. He relocated his hands from my wrist to around my waist, which was a sensation that almost made me slap him on the spot, and rested his cheek against my body. My body is not a pillow! I could feel his hot skin through my clothes. It radiated warmth like the sun. And as much as I berated myself for doing so, I don't want him to let go. Not because the sensation his warmth bought was addictively comforting, but also because for him, hugging me must be addictively comforting. If my theory is correct, that is. I just stroked his head.
"How about this, you come with me, that way you won't have to leave me." It felt like I was talking to a five year old. He looked up and nodded.
'I don' wan' you to leave... I don' wan' you to leave me all alone with them...'
"With... Who?"
He just started to mumble the names "Tess", "Trinity", "Aster" and "Radius" Over and over again. Whether he's hallucinating that his murderers and adopted son were in his room, or that he was referring to Tetra and the others, I don't know.
'C'mon, Darling' I took his good hand. I didn't even go five meters before a huge weight pinned me down. The drunk man collapsed onto the floor, almost as if his bones completely evaporated. Shortly after, he started to snore. Jesus Christ... I reached under his shoulders and tried to prop him up onto the bed, but my weak muscles didn't even hold a candle to the beefy, dense ones that made up his entire body. At least he was several kg lighter because of his missing leg... Finally, I somehow managed to prop the unconscious Drunk onto his bed. He was out like a busted light bulb. The red colouration of his face still remained, although the aloof, absent minded look on his face was gone. Now he was just sleeping. His lips were parted slightly as his chest rose up and down. I stroked his cheek. I felt sorry for the poor guy, drinking his worries away... I just wanna hug him.
I entered the bathroom to look for a first aid kit. The lack of a mirror on the wall made me very uncomfortable, though I knew what I was here for. I opened a little cabinet under the sink, and to my relief there was a small box filled with bandages and other stuff. I came back to his room, and he was still out. Taking his hand and examining his palm, I realise something. On his knuckles, there were scabbed over blotches of dark pink. I don't know what from, but it looked like something was stuck in there. What happened? I decided to ask him later when he was awake and sober. I gulped as I take one of the glass shards in his palm and pulled. It came out surprisingly easily, although I could swear I could see his eyebrows twitch. I pulled out another one, and his mismatched eyes fluttered open. He groaned, trying to sit up, but my body seemed to move before I could make myself. I put my hands on his shoulders and gently forced him back down, singing reassuring messages about how he was "going to be okay" and to "calm down". He obliged, allowing me to lay him down. He started to giggle a bit more, and a dreamy, happy look appeared in his eyes.
"Yaaaaaaay..." Why was he so happy? I pulled out a shard from his hand and he didn't even respond. Whatever is going through his mind right now, I don't think I'll be able to challenge it. Slowly, shard by shard, all the embedded glass in his palm was pulled out and all that was left was the gorges of pink liquid spilling out. I got a towel, cleaned his wounds and dressed them. I never was really that good at First aid, but I managed to messily dress his wounds.
"Fresh?"
He turned his head towards me.
"Darling, how're you feeling?"
"Yaaaaaaaaay..." He giggled. I just rolled my eyes before snorting. He really is like a little kid while drunk.
"You need me to do anything else?"
Fresh just stared up at the ceiling.
'Okay, then, call me if you need me, I'm going to go to sleep now-WOAH'
My sentence was interrupted by a sudden pull. It felt like someone had taken a cane, hooked it around my waist and pulled. The next thing I know, I'm pressed against something warm while something's stroking my head. My face was pressed against something warm as well. As I slowly take in my surroundings, I realise that all I can see is a block of light pink the same colour as Fresh's skin.
"Don' go..." He mumbled as he stroked the back of my head. "It's always so lonely when you go away..."
It felt like someone had dropped a ten ton weight onto my chest. This man had been so lonely. All of a sudden I feel guilty for times where I had lashed out at him and hurt him. I smashed a mug against his head and called him a murderer and yet...
I hugged him.
"Okay..." I stroked his hair. It was surprisingly soft as I ran my fingers through the sea of pink. The little peaks of black sticking out from the pink feel like actual ivory. I wrapped my arms around his body, and his chapped lips spread themselves into a smile. "Okay... I'll stay... I'll stay..."
'Are they gonna kill me?' He muttered into my ear. His voice trembled.
"No... No they're not, You're-You're gonna be safe and sound, Honey, you're gonna be okay..."
'They got two of it... Two of de triangles...' He muttered. 'They're gonna use them... n... An they're gonna end me...'
I stared at him. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I swear I remember him say to me that he wanted to die. Why did his outlook on life change all of a sudden?
"They're not, okay? You've already got one part, and you've got lots of soldiers protecting you, so they won't stand a chance..."
Everything I just said in that sentence was a complete lie. First of all, Tetra and the others are most likely doing the "right thing", but Fresh was really the only one who actually was this kind to me. Everything I just said was riddled with doubt, and I really hope to god that he's too drunk to realise. But he just smiled and hugged me tighter.
"Darlin'?"
'Yeah?'
"Where'zat music box?"
'Music box?'
"Where'zit?"
'I'm... not quite sure what you mean, you mean that music box I gave you?'
"Ye..."
I turned around and craned my head upwards, scanning my eyes across the horribly messy room. A lot of the stuff he owned was strewn across the floor like legos, and I spotted something lying amongst them. I reached out for it, and the music box I had given him fit perfectly in my palm. During the ordeal, Fresh never let go. It was like he was afraid to lose me. I felt the cool metal, and I showed it to him. His eyes seemed to light up and he smiled. Taking initiative, I decided to wind it up and play the tune for him, He smiled. Why did he ask for this, exactly? Did he, like, listen to it before he goes to sleep or something? If he does... I could feel a smile creep across my face at the thought. I actually feel appreciated! The sound of a soft metallic melody played through the air. If I recall correctly, this was a folk song that sang about a beautiful, summer paradise, especially for those going through tough times. Ideal for someone like Fresh. I don't think he recognised the tune, so it must've been composed after his imprisonment.
"Heh... Little Butterfly..." He cooed. Shortly after, he fell asleep with a dreamy smile on his face and his arms weighing loosely on my waist.
I have every right to get out of here and go to sleep in my own bed, his grip on me was loose and I knew that I could easily pry him off. But something within me said no. Something within me pitied and sympathised with him, and it told me to comfort him. It felt like if I didn't, it'd drive me so far up the wall I'd have trouble coming down.
So with my conscience screaming at me to do so, I pried his arms off, and climbed into the bed alongside him. The poor man must've felt so lonely, and who am I to refuse him that company he's missed so dearly? It'd be just cruel if I did otherwise.
And once again, I don't know if it's just my sheer exhaustion or the innate desire for affection buried deep within my psyche, but I wrapped my arms around him. This time, he was unconscious, so he didn't roll over, his back just continued to face me, his tense muscles rising and falling in my arms. He radiated a lot of warmth, like a sun.
Like... My sun...
If you listen closely in that moment, you could hear Fresh's faint snoring. You could hear your own heartbeat, if you wanted to. And an unknown time later, you could hear the sound of rain outside falling down to the earth.
This was oddly relaxing. Having a warm anchor in your arms as you fall asleep to the sound of rain. I don't know why, but in this moment, I seem to fall asleep much faster than usual.
...
I could see myself falling asleep like this every night.
I woke up to movement disturbing my rest. My eyes were practically glued shut, so forcing them open was no easy task. I felt a comforting warmth leave me, and I instinctively let out a low "Noooooooo" as I tried to reach for it.
"...(Y/N)?" I look up and see that Fresh had woken up. Okay, to put it simply, he looked like shit. He was tired, his hair was messy, and his face was deathly pale. His eyes were drilled deep into his sockets and his face was shrouded in shadow. But despite that, the look on his face was a pleasant surprise, albeit an extremely tired one.
'Good morning, Darling, you feeling better?'
"My head hurts like hell..." he grunts while clutching his face in his hands. "Uuuuuugh... I hate hangovers..."
'Want coffee?'
"Okay..." He looked around the room, and slowly his eyes widened. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened in here, and- Ow! what happened to my hand?"
'Long story short, you got drunk, trashed your room, vomited all over yourself, Mordecai and I had to wash you down, you woke me up in the middle of the night by falling over and practically destroying your hand, I patched you up.'
He blinked.
'...You know what, I'll go get your coffee-'
"No." The way he said No was so stern and so authoritarian that when it reached my ears it sent shivers down my spine and I froze up. "You... You stay here."
'...Okay...?'
He looked around, and somehow managed to find his phone in the mess. He muttered an order into the receiver after calling a corrupted for a hilariously large amount of food and coffee, and once the call ended, he looked directly at me. His gaze bored itself into my eyes, and I shifted in my seat.
"You... took care of me..." He muttered. "And you even kept me company..."
'Well, it felt wrong to not do that, so...'
He just smiled weakly. If I were to guess, he had absolutely no energy to smile properly, but he definitely felt glad. Now, I just woke up, so I smiled just as weakly back.
"Fresh?"
'Yeah?'
"Did you drink all that because you're stressed about... well, them?'
He avoided my gaze. Usually he looked deep into my eyes, but during those moments where he was lying or didn't want to admit to something, he always avoided it. Honestly, he's adorable. I just rolled my eyes, stood up, and hugged him. He hugged back.
"I know, It's stupid..."
'It's not, really.'
"But... Like, they've literally got two-thirds of the tree of life, if they somehow figure out how to harness its power, I'm done for."
'Fresh...' I got up and hugged him. He hugged back. Suddenly, I felt a squirming in my arms before Fresh pulled away and immediately sprinted into the bathroom. I didn't even have enough time to ask him what was wrong when I all of a sudden heard a loud "HRRRRK" sound come from the bathroom, followed by the sound of water flowing. I shyly entered, and saw Fresh crouching over the toilet, vomiting into it. All that came out was a clear-ish liquid that was the colour of copper. The look in his eyes was a incredulous horror, as tears welled up in them. I didn't know what to do, so I just pat his back while trying not to vomit myself. Finally, when he stopped, his breathing was ragged with pain, his gasps were raw and I swear I heard him whimper. I didn't dare look into the toilet bowl at his vomit.
"You done...?"
'Yeah...' He choked. 'Yeah... Ugh... Damnit... I should really brush my teeth...'
And when he tried to stand up, his leg disengaged itself. Without any warning, without any indication of what might happen, the pink prosthetic just suddenly vanished, which caused Fresh to tumble over. He would've banged his head against the sink if I hadn't thought quickly and caught him before he hurt himself any further. His body weight was too much, so while I was standing there trying to support him, I held my breath as I tensed up. He staggered for a few moments before he thanked me. I helped him over to the sink and watched over him as he brushed his teeth. He was right-hand-dominant, and his right hand was currently bandaged up and wounded, so he had to brush with his left hand. His leg was just appearing and disappearing, just like an apparition. Once he was done, I helped him back to the main room and laid him down on on the bed.
"I'm sorry..." He muttered, avoiding my gaze.
'For what?'
"For... well, everything... I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused..."
I can't help but snort.
'Fresh, what's with the formality all of a sudden? I'm not a police officer, it's okay, you did so much for me, you even saved me from falling to my death, this is the least I can do.'
He smiled. 'Sit down.'
I sat down beside him on the other side of the bed, and to my surprise, he wrapped his arms around my hips and buried his face into my stomach. This was nothing weird, nothing sexual, I know that, he's not the type, but I still wasn't entirely comfortable with him like this. He was just simply exhausted and 110% done with everything, so I just nervously stroked his hair. I played with his hair for a little while, but when I touched the skin at the base of his horns, he squirmed and shifted underneath me.
"Don't... don't touch that." He muttered. I can't help but giggle at the sensation of vibrating sound waves echoing through my stomach as he talked, I'm kinda ticklish.
'Why?'
"...Don't like it."
'Did I find a sensitive spot?'
"N-no, you didn't."
Secretly, I wanted to keep on prodding that area, just to see his reaction. The reaction that just came from that was the exact same reaction if someone were to breathe down your neck. It was adorable. But I get that the guy is tired, I get that the guy is stressed, so I just calmly stroked his hair, making sure to not directly irritate the sensitive part that was the skin at the base of his horns. As much as I wanted to.
"What happens if I pull your horns?"
'I suggest you not do that.'
"Why?"
'It'll hurt. Big time. Barracuda was curious one time, and trust me - it did not end well.'
"...Oh..."
Awkward Silence.
"Is your head still hurting?"
'Hurts like shit...'
"Want me to massage it or something or..."
'Yeah... around the temples...'
I did as I was told and started rubbing his temples in a circular motion. He sighed in satisfaction and just laid there, unmoving. Soon enough, a Corrupted knocked on the door, entered with a tray filled with a crap ton of food and coffee. He greedily ate and drank everything up. That guy vomited for the second time (at least I think) within 12 hours, so obviously he practically inhaled everything. If I were in his shoes, I would make sure that nobody, and I repeat NOBODY would even think about touching my food. So to my surprise, Fresh actually offered me a pancake. Which I happily ate. After he practically inhaled the coffee and food, he just collapsed. Like, a full on flop. He was still conscious, but not moving. I just stroked his hair as he planked on the bed.
"(Y/N)?" He called out, voice muffled.
'Yeah?'
A pause. "Thank you."
I smiled. 'My pleasure. You feeling better now?'
"Eeeeh... Not really..."
'Thought so.'
Silence.
"Butterfly?"
'Yes?'
"Can I... um... Can I hold your hand?" Fresh's head angled itself so that it no longer was planted into the mattress. He looked up at me, the look of a head-splitting hangover smothering his face. I felt a warm blush tinge at my cheeks.
'Sure! Wh-Why not' I reached out for his left hand. It was warm and slightly sticky, with rough callouses. His hand was really big, now that it's compared to mine. My hands were only big enough to reach the part between his first and second knuckles. I closed my fingers around his, and he smiled weakly. Moments passed in silence, before his eyes fluttered shut and he started to snore again. He slept so peacefully.
Watching him sleep was a pastime that I found surprisingly appealing. Call me creepy all you want, but in that moment, everything seemed to slow down. I wanted to stroke his face, but that'll probably wake him up and we'll have a very awkward moment. So I just smiled.
I had to cherish every moment of this.
Because I knew that, 20 minutes before it happened, there would be uninvited guests knocking on the tower doors.