My Soul Belongs to AkaRen/Renkaza

Lost and Found

Akaza felt an arm slips behind his back, lifting him up from the dirty ground of the alley with foreign gentleness. He can barely open his eyes, sleepiness slowly claiming his consciousness. He saw a bright silhouette, shifting in front of him, he can see the stranger with an attractive skin tone, and he felt the hands which belonged to the stranger caressing him.

A thumb ran across his chapped lips, he heard the deep, concerned voice muttering, a sound of a pop followed, and the mouth of a water bottle was pressed softly against his lips. The cool liquid flowed into his mouth, he wasn't aware of his dry throat until now, his thirst causing him to crack his mouth open, more than willing to swallow the tasteless water down his throat.

The stranger was so careful, it felt kind of irritating to Akaza. His Adam's apple bobbed as soon as the water hit his tongue, he laid limp against the stranger's arm.

Warmly, tenderly, his skin burns, and he wanted more.

Akaza was vulnerable, half-conscious, and clinging to someone who happened to be so kind to aid him.

He gasped for breath right after the mouth of the bottle was pulled away from him, he coughed away the acidic taste at the back of his throat, groaning at the pain from his cuts and bruises.

He felt the stranger wiping away a drop of water that trickled down his chin, his skin was warm, his hair blonde and reddish, Akaza was being carried into a pair of strong arms, wrapped around his injured body, and he felt the thumping of the someone's heart against him.

And it was black.

-

The ground felt soft when he woke up.

It wasn't the ground, it was a bed, one that he hadn't slept on since forever.

Akaza looked around the room, it was illuminated dimly, with curtains over the windows, and a desk light stayed lit on the other side of the room.

He ran his fingers over the hem of the blanket that covered him, his shirt was different, the neck felt slightly loose as it exposed his collarbone. The blanket was comfortable, the fan hummed quietly as it spun, the room wasn't cold, and it wasn't scary either.

His arms were already patched up and cleaned as he inspected it, he felt the bandages around his cuts, and the lingering coolness of ointment on his skin. Dust and dirt were mostly wiped away, even his head didn't felt sticky with sweat like usual.

He felt refreshed.

He raised his hand to touch his face, it felt smooth, whoever brought him here must've cleaned him.

Pulling the blanket off himself, he saw his legs which were treated and cleaned, and his torn pants were replaced with shorts.

He attempted to get off the bed, feeling his toes against the cold floor before he stood up and inspected the room.

He walked towards the window, pulling it slightly apart to view the darkening sky. He was in an apartment, he looked through the window which has drowned out the noises. He turned around, eyeing the furniture before moving towards the desk. The table was clean and tidy, stationeries stuffed in a pencil holder, the desk light glowed quietly, light reflected off the books that were stacked tidily against each other, then there was a huge shelf of even more books.

He raised a brow and inspected the book names.

Most books were historical and philosophical, even cookbooks and a thick storybook were in the collection.

He rubbed his palm against the shorts, which was smooth and not ripped like his old pants.

He wonders what does this person wants with him.