I slowly walked down the hallway towards the painted white door, my empty stomach full of static anticipation. The building was filled with thousands of other doors of various shape and color, some extravagant, and some, like mine, were bleak. And due to the Quarter Master saying that every room will be an exact representation of who the occupant is, I felt numb with the realization of my normality.
I heard some other older boys talking about their rooms, and most of them sounded decent enough. Though the professors mentioned that we shouldn’t be expecting it to be perfect, because nobody is. I really wished I didn’t hear that.
I felt an icy sweat coat the back of my neck as I rested my hand on the handle. It’ll be alright, I told myself, it’ll be just like all of the other boys room, maybe a few additional objects, but it’ll be fine.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. There was a moment where I couldn’t think properly, but then a cold stillness filled my chest at the sight before me.
The walls and floor were a deep black, and the windows were tainted. The colorings way have disturbed me slightly, but the contents of the room was what made me stop.
It was empty. Everything was gone. Or maybe wasn’t there in the first place.
I am nobody.
I should feel sad, but I don’t.
I. F e e l. N o t h i n g.
[AUTHORS NOTE: Read this if you want something slightly depressing! I had fun writing it :3 A little background information- Edgar is the son of the leader of the underworld (satan, lucifer, the devil, hades, idk idc) and he lives in a disfunctional family’s attic due to fatherly connection. Calliope, the son, is the only one who knows Edgar lives there. They’re friends and yada yada you get the idea. Hopefully your still going to read it. Have fun :> (Btw, I had literally no clue what to name this, so , shrugs.) ] {Be careful if abuse triggers you, and they are FRIENDS. Edgar might (maybe, possibly) have a small crush on Calli, but that’s not the point here}
Edgar pulled the boy close to him, murmuring various words of reassurance while running his pale fingers through his friend’s hair.
“Edgar,” Calliope whispered from where his face was pressed against Edgar’s chest. “I wish we could kill him.”
There was a deafening silence that filled the poorly lit attic. The only things that were audible were the faint creaking of old wood along with the flutter of rotting curtains.
“So do I,” Edgar whispered darkly, and he heard a dangerous edge to his voice when he said it. “When that abomination of a man makes it to my father, I swear to you, he will feel thousands of times more pain than he has made you feel.”
There was a faint sound of choking before Calliope began to sob. Edgar felt his shirt dampen with his friend’s tears, and he rubbed a hand comfortingly on Calliope’s back. “My mother is out there,” Calliope murmured miserably. The pain in his voice made Edgar want to break something if only it would chase it away.
“You must remember,“ Edgar started, his voice slightly shaken, “that no matter what happens to her, we will have each other.” Calliope gripped Edgar’s necktie as he tried to muffle his cries into the fabric of Edgar’s shirt. “No matter what,” Edgar finished with a quick squeeze around the boy’s waist.
“N-No matter what,” Calliope made out through his tears.
Then, despite himself, Edgar glimpsed towards the door, and a horrible rush of terror flooded through him as he thought about the man that could come through it at any moment. He took a deep breath and remembered that even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to see them in the darkness that shrouded the room.
They stayed like that for a few hours, and eventually they pulled apart and moved to lie on separate sides of Edgar’s mattress. The quilt that he usually used was downstairs in Calliope’s laundry room, and neither of them would risk getting it.
“I can’t lose her,” Calliope finally choked out, his voice still slightly ragged even through he stopped crying a few hours ago. Edgar silently reached his hand out to the boy, and Calliope’s fingers curled tightly around his. “She has been my only happiness since you came along, and even though she never did anything to stop him, she is still my mum.”
Edgar wasn’t sure how to respond. He remembers the nights when Calliope would wordlessly crawl into his bed, only to disappear before sunrise, leaving a dark red splotch on the mattress from his wounds. The screams and raised voices that would end in a deafening silence. The clashes and clatters of glass shattering and things being thrown about the place.
He felt fury rush into his blood, and he gritted his teeth to mollify its bite. “We-We could run away.” The words were forced.
Calliope sat up, and Edgar quickly added, “If your mother isn’t-uh-if we bring your mother of course.”
Calliope turned to Edgar, who also sat up. “Edie? You would do that for me? You would leave the anchor-the only ways of communication with your father-for the sake of, well, me?”
Edgar squeezed Calliope’s hand, and didn’t hesitate to respond. “Yes.”
He would die for him, but Edgar didn’t say that. He couldn’t. Not when that would open doors he’s been trying so hard to close.
Calliope was silent for a moment, and although Edgar could only see the faint contours of the boy, he could tell he was analyzing him.
“We should sleep,” Calliope said at last, and although it was evident that sleep would not find them, he agreed.
As long as they don’t lose each other, they could get through anything.
[AUTHORS NOTE: If you made it through then I hoped you enjoyed :D I might write more from this if you guys think I should, but if not then coolio hoolio bonjollio. Welp. Embrace the madness folks! :) ]
The walls of Ginsberg Junior High seemed to close in on Will as he struggled to get to his next class. It was room 13, just down the hall and to the right. It shouldn’t be too hard. He tightened his arms around his binder as the blood started dripping from the ceiling. His heartbeat quickened along with his pace. The students gave him odd looks as he passed. He closed his eyes and told himself it was just another vision. It should go away in a few seconds. Then Will bumped into something-someone- he realized as his eyes flew open and scanned the person in front of him.
Oh, shit.
Will smiled awkwardly and apologized. It was his hallway crush. The boy had wavy brown hair and a white v-necked shirt.
The cute boy smirked at Will, ‘You know, you shouldn’t walk in the hallways with your eyes closed.’
His cheeks burned, and he mumbled ‘I know.’
Then Will’s gaze drifted over the boy’s shoulder at the blood that was now slowly covering the floor. Creeping towards him.
No. No. No.
Will mumbled another apology and began to walk towards it. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. No one had the red liquid stuck to the soles of their shoes. He stopped at the slowly moving border.
Then he took a step. People were whispering at his strangeness, and he could feel tears burn his eyes. He couldn’t cry, not now. He took a deap breath and began to make his way to the classroom. He tried to ignore the squish at the bottom of his shoes.
He was almost there. Five more steps.
He made it. Will walked into the classroom, and everyone was staring at him. The teacher was scowling. His heart fell into his stomach.
‘You’re late Mr. Willow,’ the teacher said darkly. Will quickly took his seat and pulled out his books from his bag. He could feel the other student’s eyes burning holes into him.
He felt a tear escape and fall down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly and cursed himself. There was still that sickening wet feeling in his shoes, and he hesitantly looked down.
They were red. A deep wine red that went up almost to his ankles.
Will looked up and tried to pay attention to the teacher, but it was almost as if the blood on his feet began to spreading up his legs. He felt nauseous.
He raised his hand, trying to keep his arm from trembling. The teacher called on him, and he asked to go to the restroom. She muttered something under her breath, and guestured for Will to leave.
He stood up, his chair making an embarrassing sound. The teacher grimaced and glared at him with a furious gleam in her eye.
Will practically ran out of the classroom. He sped walked down the hall to the mens room, and rushed into an empty stall. He then threw up his breakfast, then when he thought he was done he backed away from the toilet. He looked down, forgetting his shoes, and saw that the blood was almost up to his knees. He threw up again, almost certain an organ or two came up with it, and whimpered.
He heard a soft knock on the door of his stall. Will froze. ‘Um. Are you okay?’
Fuck. It was him.
Will looked aroung the stall for anything sharp he could stab himself with. Unsuccessful, he laughed humorlessly. ‘I’m fine.’
The boy sighed, and opened the door and looked down at my curled up form.
With a raised eyebrow he said, ‘That’s definitely not what I see.’
Will gave him a forced smile. ‘I. Am. Perfectly. Fine.’
The boy just gave him a genuine smile and held out a hand. ‘Lets get you cleaned up, shall we?’
‘I don’t need your help.’
‘Well I need to help you.’
Will narrowed his eyes at him. ‘Please leave’
He just shook his head, his hand still outstretched.
‘Fuck you.’
His smile just widened. ‘Good luck with that.’
Now Will was annoyed for more than one reason.
He sighed and took the boys waiting hand. He couldn’t help but realize just how nice it felt. He shook the thought away and pulled his hand from the his.
Will washed the bit of throw up from his shirt, and then considered washing his shoes and socks, but didn’t want to weird the boy out. Then he realized the blood was fading. It was at the top of his calves now. He sighed in relief.
‘What’s your name?’ the boy asked him.
‘Willow, but call me Will.’
‘Cool. I’m Arthur, but call me Artie.”
Will smiled at the nickname, then he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed at the boy.
‘ I’ll see you around,’ he said before rushing out of the bathroom.
~~~
I might write more thats why it has [ I ]
Hopefully you didn’t hate it :> (i didnt have time to edit)
I watch him through the window with mild interest. He’s crying on the floor of his dark room, which is not a new accurance, for he has been doing this for the past few nights he has been here. His thin form curled up against the wall, his knees to his chest. The moon is full tonight, basking his figure with a light glow.
The humans in my neighborhood have been trying to welcome him by bringing him food or flowers, but he never opens the door for them, only staring at it until they go away. This intrigued me. Their kind always seemed to want each others company.
I tilt my head at the young man, waiting for the tears to stop falling from his face. Such a human thing to do, crying, they seem to think that by letting liquid out of their eyes, they will become happier. I wish I could tell them what idiots they are.
Then, as if hearing my thoughts, the boy looked up at the window. I stiffened, waiting for the boy to come and tell me off, but to my suprise, he just watches me.
His tears are slowing now, and his head is tilted to almost the exact angle mine is. I straighten, and watch him closely, waiting for something. He only sits there.
Then he mouths something I can’t hear. His face breaks out into a small, sad smile. He mouths something again, and I scratch the window. I want to know what he is saying, and for some bizar reason, I want to help the boy.
His dark eyebrows raise at my movement, and he just sits there staring at me like a fool before he walks over to my window. He hesitates a moment, then puts his pale, boney fingers on the latch. His eyes stay on me, as if he thinks Ill run away.
He slowly opens the window, pushing up the glass until I can comfortably fit through, and then stands to the side, waiting for me to enter. I sit up from my comfortable position, and step forward.
I’m not sure what I’m doing; a smart cat would simply leave and not be kept in captivity by these unstable creatures, but I am not a normal cat by any means. I trust this boy, and he seems like he wants to trust me.
I hop down onto the nearest platform which is his empty nightstand, and turn to look up at him. He leaves the window open and looks down at me.
“Finally,” he says, “someone to talk to without voicable opinions.”
I feel offended by this, mainly because of the truth behind it, and narrow my eyes, a low meow comes from my mouth. He just smiles at my effort and sits on the bed.
“That must be the warmest welcom to Jokelsome Drive I’ll ever get here.”
I move to sit beside him. At least he isn’t crying anymore. Although I did prefer him without hearing him speak, I prefer silence over sound for reasons that I never really understood.
I can feel him look down at me, and out of my peripheral I see his hand coming down on my head. I scoot out of the way and glare at him with as much feisty, feline fury I can muster. He chuckles and raises his hands in surrender.
I go and curl up on his pillow, which has a navy blue floral design that must clash well with my dark, black coat. It feels silky, which I have only had the luxury of feeling a few times before, and I absolutely adore it.
The human stares at me, and his voice is soft as he said, “It would be wonderful to be a cat. The solitude and independence you could have without the repercussion of loneliness. I wish I could be like you.”
Without the repercussion of lonliness? Oh my lord, humans are the biggest, witless bags of meat to ever walk this world. Who does he think he is to take that one feeling of loss away from me. I wish he could turn into a cat just to see how it eats my soul.
He watches me, seeing my inner gears working, and blurts “Will you be my friend?” His face turns red and he curses himself under his breath for asking a cat a question.
I surprise him by moving towards him and stepping into his lap. I lie down, and he stiffens, unsure what to do with me. I don’t flinch when he begins petting me, and I feel him huff a sigh of relief when I don’t scratch his face off.
“You are the best company someone like me can ask for.”
I purr, and the lonliness that sits like lead in my heart slowly dissolves. I’ve always thought that humans were the ones that needed cats, but I guess we need them too.
“I was just trying to be what you wanted,” he said with a feline smile.
“I don’t even know you…”
“Oh, but you do,” he adjusted his bowtie and smoothed out his lapels. “For the past three and a half years, I have knocked on your door at exactly 6:43, and you have answered it to find a gift. The wi-“
“The wine.”
He grinned, “Yes my dear, the wine. The same wine your beloved brother died getting for you.” He makes a humorless sound, probably supposed to be a laugh, and sighs, “What a tragic accident.”
“It was.”
“Does the wine help?” he asked.
“No.”
He smiled, “That is good my sweet. Forgeting what happend would be your downfall.
“I wish I forgot.”
He laughs, this time full of amusment. “I remember when I killed my brother. I wished I had forgotten too. I did for a short time, and let me just say,” his head tilted at an odd angle, and his smile seemed to widen to an abnormal size, “it destroyed me.”
Ah. Crap.
I adjust my tie and watch as Aurel moves towards me. My palms are sweaty as I try to rub them gracefully on the front of my waistcoat.
This. Cannot. Be happening.
The mission was so simple when I was first instructed. Get into the damned gala, swap the codes to the vault, and avoid-
I failed. I failed. I failed.
Oh gods, I failed.
The Hades Society will hang me in the town square like they did to all the others. My worthlessness will be spoken of constantly through the next few weeks after my death. I might as well just kill mys-
“Why, Arthur,” Aurelius said in that smooth tone of his, “fancy seeing you here.”
I swear that voice calmed my brutal nerves, for I almost forgot what I had just done. Or maybe it was the way he said my name. Or maybe it was the way his suit hugged his lean frame.
Dammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Ah,” I said lamely, “you too Aurel.”
I brought my wine glass to my lips and took a rather large gulp of the sweet liquid, wishing it was stronger.
He watched my throat as I swallowed, and I gripped the stem of the glass tighter.
“Say,” he started, “I don’t think I’ve seen you since fourth year.” His face twisted into a sad smirk, and my stomache twisted right along with it. “When your parents had banned you from ever seei-“
“I-I should go,” I said hurriedly, for if he finished that sentence, I wouldnt be leaving for a long while.
Aurelius’s perfect eyebrows dipped a little, and I nervously tucked my red hair behind my ear.
“Stay.”
I wasn’t exactly sure wether it was a question, but the wine was starting to cloud my head enough that my common sense was dulled to an incoherent hum in the back of my mind.
So I nodded, my face no doubt as red as my hair.
Then before I knew it, my glass was pulled out of my hand, and I was being pulled towards the dance floor.
“Wait. Aurel. We can’t.”
He ignored my concerns, and brought me to the back corner of the room.
He then pulled me to him, and I forgot why I was concerned in the first place. We swayed a little. The music was a slow rhythm that wafted through the air like a pleasant smell. I pulled away from him enough to fully look at his face.
My breath caught. It has been a while since I have gotten the opportunity to see his face this close, and I wanted to savor the sight.
His eyes were closed, but I knew the world behind those eyelids all to well. Aurel’s perfectly cut blond hair and his long translucent eyelashes. His familiar straight nose had a new bump in it. Like it broke, but never quite healed right. I knew where he got it from. My father. I got scars the same day.
His eyes opened as if he could feel my gaze. He gave me a smirk, then dipped me. I felt blood rush to my head, then he pulled me up and I playfully hit his arm. He laughed, and then pulled away.
I felt cold without his heat, but then he grabbed my hand, and dragged me towards the door.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, my head still a little bit light from the dip.
Aurelius didn’t answer, instead dragging me towards the gardens.
When we reached the fountain, he let go of my hand and sat on the rim.
“Sit,” he ordered, patting the space next to him.
I sat. Then I turned to him.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Aurel asked me.
“Yes,” I told him. I remembered it clearly. We were on a cruise going to Santa Monica, and I was on an assassination mission. I killed the man, and then began to run away. Aurelius, this charming prince, ran into me and offered a handkerchief. I will forever remember his kindness.
“That was when I first realized that you were a Hadesean.”
I froze.
“How did you know about that?”
I swear my heartbeat could be audible from a mile away.
He smiled and brushed rusty hair out of my eyes. “It’s my job, darling.”
Darling. I haven’t heard him call me that in months.
I knew I should probably kill him, at least I should if I want to live, but I would die either way: by the society’s hand, or my own.
So I kissed him.
Then I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen as a roof sniper found their target.
“I love you,” I whispered into Aurel’s ear.
He held me close and whispered those sacred words back to me.
Then the darkness of cruel inevitablity found me.
