Only Ash Remains [boyxboy]

Chapter I

~Friday 16th January 2015~

Three hundred and seven years. Seven months. Twelve days. And, still, Ross couldn't get a damn warm shower in that place. He shivered under the freezing stream, not liking how the icy droplets of water numbed his flesh as they beat down on him with an almost painful pressure. He should have been used to it after so long, yet he wasn't. He never would be. Not in that place. Despite the routine and bland simplicity, nothing was ever predictable there.

Turning around, Ross allowed the water to hit his back instead, letting out a heavy sigh as he opened his eyes. He couldn't help but smirk subtly when he caught one of the guards across the room watching him. They weren't supposed to, not really. Even there, he was supposed to have a degree of privacy, yet, over the centuries, he had more than enough wandering gazes roam his nude form. He was an attractive man and, even imprisoned, he had ensured his muscles never deteriorated. He never knew when he would need to use them to his advantage all over again.

That particular guard was new, a pretty blonde with a blushing disposition. Virgin, Ross thought to himself, taking the opportunity to rake his own eyes over the petite man. He couldn't be much older than twenty, and certainly didn't fit the type for the majority of the other workers in the prison. Ross hadn't taken an interest in any of his captors for a long time, although there had been a select few over the years that starred in his fantasies. Still, he was on his best behaviour, as Brennon had instructed. No touching, a rule he was all too familiar with. And all too bored of.

"If you're done, inmate, step out of the shower," the other guard barked at Ross, who merely rolled his eyes and tipped his head back into the stream of water once again, running his hands through his hickory-coloured locks. The other guard was an older man, one who Ross had been forced to be around for the past twenty-three years. He was never allowed to know the names, although he could think of more than a few to call them if he was caught in a particularly bad mood. For their own safety, the wardens had mentioned some time or another over the years.

Ross did as he was told in the end, knowing that he wasn't allowed any more than twenty minutes in that shower a day. As depressing as it sounded, that was the highlight of his life. A fucking cold shower, that was all he had to look forward to. Because that was the only time he ever had any contact. Be it with humans, humans who weren't talkative, hauled him around like some rag doll and looked down on him. It was all he could hope for. A moment away from the deafening silence of his room.

Solitary confinement. That had been the bane of his existence for the past three centuries in that prison. Twenty minutes of contact a day when he was brought to the showers, the other twenty-three hours and forty minutes spent alone with his own mind. Ross knew the reasoning. They wanted him to go mad. He knew it was shocking that he had lasted so long, but he had his vices. Being alone with his own thoughts wasn't too bad, he had one hell of an imagination by this point. It was the silence that bothered him most.

Of course, there were Saturdays, Ross' favourite days. He was allowed visitors, or rather a visitor, that day. Once a week, for an hour only, he would be chained more so than usual and led to the visitation room. Of course, he wasn't allowed in the same room as anyone else, no, there was a large pane of glass between him and the outside world. But it was still something to look forward to. Brennon tended to visit most, updating Ross on whatever he needed to know. Tomorrow would be that day too, and Ross couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"What are you smirking about, inmate?" That same elder guard grunted, watching Ross now that he was at least partially clothed. They weren't allowed to use his name either, that would only humanise him. God forbid he felt anything more than a caged beast.

"Nothing at all, sir," Ross beamed at the guard, hoping his smile didn't come off so sarcastic. The guards weren't supposed to speak directly to him unless entirely warranted. Some did, Ross was blessed with a few guards over the years that would actually treat him somewhat pleasantly. At the moment, that older guard definitely wasn't one of them. However, the blonde might be, judging by how sheepish he was as Ross stepped into the white jumpsuit provided. A foolish colour, really, but one that Ross had to deal with. It presented blood stains much easier.