The Celestials [Taegyu]

Chapter 03 ; First Encounter

song ; blow (kesha)

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Viken shivered, the cold of the dungeon seeping into his flesh despite the thin layers of clothing he had donned. The cell was dark and unwelcoming. The stone walls, frosted over, seemed to be closing in on him. The small, barred window allowed a sliver of moonlight to filter in, casting eerie shadows on the damp ground.

The blond drew his knees close to his chest, seeking warmth and solace. He looked around the dimly lit space, adjusting his eyes to the gloom. The other prisoners were awake, eyeing him with a blend of curiosity, suspicion, and anger. He could sense their stares burning into him, each one a painful reminder of his silence and the harsh reality he had stumbled into.

I wish I didn't write this part.

His gaze drifted to a particular prisoner in the far corner. Unlike the others, who were openly antagonistic, this man regarded him with a calm, almost analytical demeanor. Yet there was something unsettling about him. In the faint light, his skin appeared unnaturally pale, almost translucent. Dark circles framed his eyes, which looked vacant and hollow, as if he hadn't slept in months.

"What the fuck?" He whispered under his breath.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man. The prisoner's gaze held an unsettling intensity, a wordless communication that Viken struggled to understand. It felt as if this stranger could see right through him, grasping his despair and loss in a way that no one else could.

Amidst the cold and isolation, a wave of anxiety washed over him. This prisoner, this enigmatic figure in the corner, seemed to embody the hopelessness and sorrow that had begun to seep into his own soul. The man gave a barely perceptible nod, suggesting an unspoken connection between them, but the gesture felt eerie, almost spectral.

Then, a jolt of recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Oh, he's the male lead. The thought raced through his mind, sending chills down his spine.

Terry Lovelock, the protagonist of "The Celestials," a character he had created as the author. A wave of regret surged through him as the realization settled in.

Thing's about to get dirty real soon.

Terry's rough, deep voice pierced the cold and quiet at that exact moment.

"Have you ever been to prison before?" He asked, his tone tinged with curiosity and tiredness.

Viken shook his head slowly, sensing the weight of the question.

"No," he replied softly, his voice barely rising above the stillness of the room.

Terry nodded slightly, as if he had anticipated that answer.

"The first time is always the hardest; I don't blame you," he murmured, more to himself than to Viken.

The exchange only heightened Viken's anxiety as the reality of his situation pressed down on him. The events of the day, coupled with the relentless chill, sapped his energy and left him feeling utterly drained. Despite the discomfort, his eyelids grew heavy.

As his head drooped, he slipped into a fitful slumber, the haunting image of Terry's hollow eyes lingering in his mind like a specter. He fell asleep with an unexpected sense of pride. I didn't realize he could look that intimidating up close. Darkness enveloped him, lulling him into a restless sleep filled with fragmented dreams and unvoiced fears.

He jolted awake when a massive explosion shattered the night's stillness. His eyes flew open, filled with shock and terror.

"What the hell is happening?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Struggling to his feet, his heart raced as he surveyed his surroundings. The prison cell, once cramped and uncomfortable, now seemed oddly empty. The iron bars hung ajar, swaying slightly from the force of the blast. Most of the inmates had seized the chance to escape, leaving behind a chaotic scene of overturned bunks and scattered belongings.

In the midst of the turmoil, he noticed Terry, who laid still against the far wall.

"Terry?" Viken gasped, his voice growing more intense.

He hurried through the prison, his mind racing with possibilities. Terry's escape attempt had clearly failed. The blond rushed to his side, quickly assessing his condition. Terry lay unconscious, his face pale under the dim emergency lights. There were no visible injuries, but the explosion had clearly taken its toll. Viken gently shook Terry's shoulder, trying to wake him.

"Wake up, Terry. We need to get out of here."

The young man remained unresponsive, his breathing shallow yet steady. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the lad and draped Terry's arm over his shoulder. The weight was significant, but Viken's determination pushed him forward.

The prison corridors echoed with distant cries and the sound of hurried footsteps. Viken navigated the winding hallways carefully, Terry in tow. Each step brought new dangers, from escaping inmates to guards rushing to regain control.

As they neared the exit, a wave of hope washed over Viken. The cool night air awaited them, promising freedom and safety. But first, they had to make it out. He tightened his grip on Terry and pressed on, resolute in his quest for escape.

He managed to carry Terry on his back as they narrowly evaded Scotland Yard. With officials scattering in all directions to find the escapees, Viken slipped into a dark alley, his breath coming in heavy gasps. The poorly lit path offered some cover from their pursuers.

Once in the alley, he carefully set Terry down, allowing both of them a moment to catch their breath and plan their next move. The sounds of distant footsteps and shouts echoed through the night, though they were momentarily masked by the surrounding darkness.