The Whisperings Of Insidious

The Climb

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⊰᯽⊱The sweat was cascading down Orem's body, dripping from his every pore and raining from his sandy blonde hair into his gray eyes, making them sting. His already tight T-shirt was clinging to his chiseled muscles like it was a new skin, exposing the tan beneath. His muscles glittered in the sunlight each time he flexed, giving him a godly appearance.

     They had been climbing this treacherous rock for a few hours now, and the strain was starting to show. Orem's fingers and arms were starting to burn, making it harder to continue pulling himself up the face of the cliff. He loved how it felt to push his body to the absolute limit, then keep pushing. The way his muscles twitched as they were overworked, the pain, the knowledge that nothing could stop him. This is why he pushed beyond his boundaries.

     When Orem found a suitable spot with enough of a perch for his feet, he stopped to catch his breath. Sweaty hands would be the death of him. He reached into the black pouch hanging on his hip, filled his hand with the powdery chalk, then rubbed his hands together before clapping them a few times to get off the access.

     Orem looked down as he chalked his hands to watch the slow progress Kale was making. The dark-haired man's curses between grunts made him chuckle. Kale wasn't like Orem. He wasn't a thrill seeker, and he wasn't all that big on rock climbing. He also didn't have the muscles the taller man was built with. The younger man was on the skinnier side, unable to gain weight or muscles no matter what he tried. His metabolism was in high gear and burned off more than he could ever consume. Watching as Kale struggled where he himself had practically glided through brought a twinge of pleasure to him.

     Kale glanced up at Orem and growled, "Why are we here again? We couldn't just hike around this?" Had this been a smaller rock or one that felt more welcoming, he wouldn't be complaining, but he was exhausted already, and they weren't even halfway up. The higher he climbed, the more uneasy he felt. Sure, it's normal to be anxious climbing a rock this scale without any sort of safety equipment, but his unease came from something else. It was more of a primal fear, something deep inside. At first, it was whispers to go back, but it grew louder the longer he tried to ignore it. He could feel something…dark? As if the mountain itself didn't want him there. He knew that was plain silly, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

     Rolling his eyes dramatically, Orem ignored him and started climbing again. There is no way he was letting Kale ruin this. It was Kale's own fault they were here anyway.  The climb was invigorating. It made the adrenaline race through him like very few things did. Knowing one wrong move and he would plummet over five hundred feet to his end. "What could be funner?" He didn't realize he had said this out loud until the ever annoyed Kale commented.

     "Funner? Oh, I could think of a few things." Kale chuckled lightly, out of breath, at his own lame joke, but was, of course, ignored by Orem. Again, "You're not still mad, are you?" he grunted as he pulled himself up, his slim fingers gripping the rough rock, "I said I was sorry about a million times." Kale's icy blue eyes narrowed a little as he watched his boyfriend ascend without a word.

     "Sorry?" Orem grumbled incoherently under his breath as he gritted his teeth to stop from saying things he couldn't take back. The single word brought back memories Orem had been trying to wipe from his brain, thoughts he would rather not have. A burst of anger shot through Orem with such ferocity that it startled him for a second.

“ℌ𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔰.”

     "What?" Orem was sure he just heard a silky, female voice whisper in his ear, but that was impossible. The only person on this rock besides himself was Kale, and he was too far down to be heard if he whispered. Plus, this sounded right beside him and definitely feminine. Orem shivered despite the oppressing heat, as he turned his head in every direction to find the source of the voice. As he already knew, no one was near him. Orem shook his head to clear it. He must have made a voice out of the wind. His imagination was playing with him.