You Are the Moon That Breaks the Night |Virgato|

Chapter 4: Echo (Part 2)

Chris was drowning, his strokes useless against the clashing tides. All of his attempts at trying to stay afloat were in vain. A wave took him under, throwing him around beneath the surface before he managed to break back through the surface. Desperately, he paddles around until his eyes found the beacon's light. He had to get there. He had to make it to the shore. Somewhere beneath him, thunder struck the sea. Another wave pulled him down.

_

"Do you think he will wake up soon?"

Chris had learned. He kept his eyes shut when he came to, his breathing deep enough to mimic sleep.

"I can't tell," that was a new voice Chris hadn't heard before. Suppressing the urge to furrow his brows in confusion, he assessed his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the overwhelming smell of herbs. It smelled like lavender and basil, lemon grass and every flower his mother had ever planted in the small garden behind their house. Beneath all, there was the sharp sting of metal and cologne, something heavy and smooth, most probably originating from the unknown person in the room. Also iodine and anti-bacterial solution. It took Chris a moment to realize he shouldn't be able to smell these things as well as he could, to distinguish them like he was able to.

The surface he was lying on was solid, cool against his naked back. A metal cot, he realized, like vets had. The thought nearly made him burst into laughter right then and there. Someone had put sweats on him. The fabric was thick and soft, way too soft to be his ragged second-hand ones.

"How was it?" The unknown males voice asked. He accompanied his words by stroking Christopher's hair out of his face, his skin soft and warm against his own.

"I don't know," Erick's voice gave back. He was obviously pouting, "They sent me away to get you."

The man hummed, "He wasn't hurt as far as I could see, and Joel said he hasn't hurt anybody either, so that's a pretty great score."

"I wish he would wake up soon," Erick sighed, "I'm starving."

Chris took that as a cue to 'wake up'. Groaning, he let his eyes flutter open and was met with a vitreous canopy. Like the first time he had woken up at the house on the clearing, there were lines and dots littered onto the ceiling, pained in black on the glass. Chris blinked, then he sat up rapidly, taking in a deep breath.

He was indeed sitting on an examination table, the metal cold beneath his fingers as he swung his legs over the side of the table. The matching vitreous walls of the room were lined with plants of all sizes in pots and pendants. Faintly, Chris remembered the greenhouse he had seen on the side of the house the first time he had fled the grounds. At least he knew where he was.

Out of the corner of his eyes he recognized movement and turned his head. At the head end of the examination table, Erick was standing, shoulders squared, his chin tilted up a bit and eyes filled with hard determination. He looked like a soldier and Chris was surprised to find that that was what he was here as. Behind the black haired boy's back, another person seemed to be hiding. It looked almost funny because he was not only several inches taller than Erick, but also obviously a few years older than even Chris. Chris, who was apparently the threat in this situation. The thought nearly made him laugh. Or cry, Chris wasn't completely sure.

Despite his stance, there was no fear in the other man's coffee colored eyes as he took a step around Erick and walked towards him. When he walked into Christopher's space just like that, and grabbed his face between his slightly tanned hands, Chris recognized a pattern. This man was definitely related to Joel, and not just because he was beautiful.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his gaze genuinely curious, friendly. Chris suppressed the weird urge to bump his forehead against his shoulder.

"I feel..." Chris stuttered. It was around this time he realized that he didn't feel like shit anymore. His muscles were relaxed and buzzing with the feeling of being well-rested. No nausea had his stomach in a twist, and despite the cold autumn weather, he felt comfortably warm. "I feel good. Better than that, actually. I-I feel fantastic."

Before he knew it, Chris was giggling. Erick, appearing at the other's side, reciprocated the action, "Man, I'm glad you're fine. I knew you'd do great. Richard was worried you'd be one of the crazy ones, but I told him that-"

"Erick," the man interrupted, calm but stern. Yes, definitely related to Joel.

The black haired boy snapped his mouth shut, shrugging at Chris with an apologetic smile.

"I'm Emanuel," the man introduced himself. The name fit him, Chris thought, gentle and beautiful, yet unyielding. "Is it okay with you if I do a few check-ups?"

In lack of something better to do, Chris nodded. He didn't know if he was happy or sad about the fact that he was the first one to ask before laying his hands on his body.

"Great! I'll be quick, promise."

Chris closed his eyes while Emanuel prodded and probed, listened to his breathing with a stethoscope and even hit his knee with a rubber mallet. From a few feet away, Chris could hear Erick hum what sounded like an old Ricky Martin song.

"Alright, I'm done for now."

Chris pried his eyes back open.

"Pleased to tell you that you're all good," Emanuel patted his shoulder, an honest smile tilting the corners of his mouth upwards as he turned towards Erick. "He's all yours now."

With that, Emanuel disappeared into the depths of the greenhouse.

"Manu's great, isn't he?" Erick smiled from his spot next to the door.

"Yeah," Chris said. After all the things he had encountered here, the man seemed to be the most normal thing, or person around.

"Now, come on," Erick waved him over and Chris jumped off the examination table. Christopher's answer got stuck in his throat when Erick turned around and pushed the door open. There were four thick, jagged lines that ran down the entirety of Erick's back, from his shoulder down to the bottom of his spine. The scars shimmered white against Erick's otherwise brown skin, causing Christopher's nausea to make a striking comeback. Those were claw marks. Erick couldn't be older than fifteen.

"You coming?" the black haired boy looked back at him with a smile. "Joel is already waiting."

Suddenly, Chris wanted to run. He didn't, however. Instead, he forced a smile onto his face, forced his head to move up and down. Then he followed Erick out of the greenhouse.