The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (boyxboy)

CHAPTER 20

(A/N): FUN ANNOUNCEMENT BEFORE THE CHAPTER STARTS! And also a trigger warning!

Due to the fact that I write at a glacial pace, and that Wattpad has recently removed the private messaging feature, I have decided I am feeling too big for my boots and have created a Discord server for my writing! As well as a dedicated channel for this story, which will occasionally feature teasers and notifications when I update, and where you can chat about the story if you wish, there is also a general chat, a channel dedicated specifically to reading so we can all talk about what we're reading or give book recs, and a writing channel for if anyone wants to share anything they're working on or just chat writing in general.

I'm not expecting this server to be very busy, and also I am quite shy, but we already have a couple of my friends and some of my regular readers there. The link is in my profile, but let me know if you want to be added in your comments and I'll share it here too. To be clear, I'll still be posting new chapters as I get them finished here on Wattpad. This server is just a way to better connect with all of you guys, so get in there!

TW: we're going to be closely examining some of Az's scars in this one. We know they are not self-inflicted, but writing this took me somewhere for a bit so I think the TW is necessary <3

~&~

It must be noon when Az stirs from a fitful sleep, his neck and back aching from the awkward way he's curled up in the corner. His clothes stick to his skin with that clammy sweat from a sleep that's gone on for an hour too long.

He pushes himself to sit up, rolling his shoulders and stretching out until his joints crack. The wood under him creaks as he moves. When he takes a breath that sticks in the top of his nose, it almost hurts.

The high yellow sun leaks through the narrow window that runs parallel to the ceiling. From the deep hiss of the sea outside, he realises they're on the move once more. Slade won't be happy: Az's morning duties will have gone unattended during his lie-in.

But oh — didn't Slade promise such tasks to Paver yesterday, as punishment for his crimes? What about Kaeltki?

Az rubs his knuckles into his eyelids where a sharp headache is well-established and pounding away. His fingers travel to his bandaged arms; an unconscious movement that he becomes aware of when he feels the knot keeping the fabric taut against his skin. He brings an index finger to the blunted tip of his once pointed left ear to find it just as blunted as before, and bumpy with scar tissue. Just the same as yesterday. He takes another breath full of moist air.

Though he is aware of the movements his body makes, he feels it as though through a gauzy, dreamlike film.

He's been this far from his own body before. Back when his scars were fresh and burning still, fingers weak and clumsy as a newborn's. He drops his hands to the floor, deliberately feeling each groove in the wood.

That was then. This is now.

But even with his bare feet and palms pressed flat to the ground, his own strong heartbeat throbbing in time with the smarting in his head, he can imagine he's there again. In a stranger's house, not sure if this is death or if he really is alive. His skin so irritated from the iron a few hours ago that it feels like it's on fire. His body heavy, as if water-logged, and his ears pulsing hotly.

Trembling, he reaches for his bandages again, as if to comfort himself again that the fabric is not soaked and bloody. Though the material is dry and slightly rough as always, it's not enough. He finds himself unwinding the sweat-stained strips to inspect the scars they hide. And scars they remain. Raised, tight in places, and a sort of dusty pink-purple colour, his skin is closed, as it has been for years.