Roses Wilt, Bites Scar [boyxboy]

Chapter XIII

~Wednesday 25th March 2011~

Arlo wondered what death was like. He had been contemplating the notion ever since he had met Emeri, ever since he had been taken from the gym that day. It wasn't as though he hadn't thought about it before, he would be lying if he said he hadn't, but he had really begun looking into it with serious depth in the past few weeks.

He wondered how he would die, whether it would be at Emeri's hand directly, or as some side effect of one of the many injuries the man inflicted upon him. Infection was a serious option, and probably the most painful. Emeri liked to cut Arlo, and the boy had found that that was one of his favourite forms of pain thanks to him, but it could prove quite the risk if his wounds weren't cleaned properly.

Then there was his heart, which he had already been having problems with, despite neglecting to inform Emeri of such a problem. He was getting palpitations, most often when he was in the midst of a session with the man, and didn't believe Emeri would have the forethought to actually hear him if he spoke. He tended to lose himself, and Arlo had no qualms with that, he just didn't want to risk any sort of punishment from rousing the man from the other plane that he slipped into.

He didn't fear death, never had really. He knew there were people waiting for him on the other side, his brothers and parents, he wouldn't be alone there. He wasn't one to believe in heaven, although he did have a room in Hell so maybe he should begin to ponder such a notion. He had always liked the idea of reincarnation, of his soul beginning anew again as a deer, or a rabbit, or something with a lifespan much shorter than his own, one that he could live out in a thousand different ways.

It was with that thought that Arlo woke. His eyes flittered open, feeling awfully heavy, the task laborious on his wearied body. He wasn't sure of his surroundings, disoriented for a moment as he blinked, slow and steady, waiting for his vision to snap back into place. The colours were swimming, drowning in a sea of disorganised shapes and blurred lines. Pretty, really, but not the sharp, clean images Arlo was used to.

Flexing his fingers, Arlo realised he wasn't laid with his head on a pillow. Instead, he was settled against Emeri's side, with a hand resting on the man's leg, and he had just unintentionally clutched into his slacks. He loosened his grip, tipping his head back slowly and craning his neck so he could look up at the man.

Emeri seemed distracted, staring at the laptop he cradled on his thighs with deep thought. He looked almost pensive, solemn, and yet Arlo knew it was all a facade. He knew Emeri was refusing to look to him, acting as though he hadn't noticed the subtle move the boy had made, for some unknown reason. Maybe he was angry with the boy, maybe he was upset, maybe there was a whole nother reason. Arlo wouldn't know unless he asked.

"What time is it?" Arlo wheezed out, his voice hoarse and raspy, finally catching Emeri's attention. The man was clearly trying to look bored, or disinterested, as he shifted his gaze to meet Arlo's, however, he didn't accomplish his task entirely. Arlo saw beneath the mask, saw the subtle flow of concern that the man was trying so desperately to repress. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Just after noon, how do you feel?" Arlo yawned, covering his mouth as he did so, sitting up with sluggish movements.

"How can I feel so tired after being asleep for so long?" he murmured drowsily, rubbing his eyes, only regretting the action when a headache sprouted from behind his temples.

"You weren't asleep, you were unconscious, there's a difference," Arlo rolled his eyes, resting his head against Emeri's shoulder, noting how the man stiffened for a second before relaxing once again, "what is it?" Emeri inquired when Arlo giggled, relishing in the thought of making Emeri any shade of nervous.