S^x with a Ghost| Fyolai AU

| € Posion in a Bottle € |

"The fuck..." Chuuya breathed out in a shallow wide eyed symphony. His expression that of unsheathed awareness that prickled at every single hair on his body as they stood on end in frigid infringement.

I had never, once, been so happy to hear someone utter a curse word in my entire life. Just seeing him before me was like a miracle. My prayers had been answered and I was going to be saved. A welling agony dipped low deep inside of me like a magician tipping their hat to the crowd once the magic show had concluded. This was it.

I was saved.

Yay! Could've been sooner but who am I to complain? At least someone even came at all. I could've been rotting in this 'cell' for the rest of my life for all I know, which the thought of that made me want to hurl up my insides right down onto my bare chest, but to my luck I was going to get out of this hell. The thought of escaping enveloped my mind and made me want to yearn out for elation.

Even as I lie on the metal table, the cold surface bleeding into my back and scorching my nerve endings with a cold wave of dappled pain, like icicles plunging into my back and tearing out my spinal cord, claws gripping at my fingers tips until even the atoms became numb from restlessness and pain. A graphic illustration but that's exactly how it felt in that moment and every single one beyond that as I stayed there. It only further ate and ebbed at my body heat until it made me long for human touch; a body on mine to coddle me to sleep and whisk me away from my inevitable demise.

The moldy smell started to assault at my nose again and I nearly gagged from the pungent aroma, I had to eat it back down my throat, I could feel my esophagus clogging up with my leftovers from yesterday's lunch. Not that I even consumed much of anything in the past forty eight hours. I usually didn't eat or drink as often as a normal child for my age. Maybe two meals a day if I'm lucky enough to work up an appetite from sitting around in my chair all day and contemplating the constant urge to break my leg just to make my life more intriguing again. I think when I was eight or so my parents told me I was diagnosed with anorexia but I never believed that to be entirely true. I'll probably go ahead and swing by a doctor to consult on such information. My parents are notorious liars after all, I wouldn't put it past them to convince me to starve myself as a way of controlling me.

Classic guardian manipulation.

But either way it was all disgusting. Absolutely vile. On the plus side it's not like I favor the possible scenario of getting my flesh all soiled with bile. If I did that I'd probably end up catching a cold from all the fluids, it's only fact I'm the last person to be impervious to the frost of this basement. My anemia would never let me live down the amount of times I had fallen ill and almost succumbed to the sea of death that was so desperately trying to wash me off the face of this mortal plain. I swear to god the devil or someone always has it out for me.

Not that I did anything to deserve it.

I look over at Chuuya, my violet eyes glancing over his attire as I came to notice his uniform pants were dusty, nicked, and torn all along his ankles. Multiple slits congregated around the fabric shielding his knees and one acknowledgeable laceration located on the right side of his outer thigh. A few scrape's and bruises fell along his arms in what seemed to be a pattern woven by that of a glass whip. The gingers hair was disheveled and somewhat matted, yet it attained its glorious and delicate glow even through the odds of hell it had been forced through.

I envied the confidence he radiated every time he stepped into a room.

"Seems you found me... congratulations." I croaked out, my shallow voice was more like a whisper that ping ponged off the walls and yielded a reaction a few moments later. Any sense of what I was saying was long gone by the time I even closed my mouth.