Dents

[+] Latin Simone

((This chapter contains mature content. Reader discretion is advised.))

I sunk into the sheets, submerging myself in the tangling ripples of satin waves. I had taken hold of 2D's pillow, hugging it as if it was the only piece of reality grounding me in the world. I was drowning even though I wasn't underwater.

A painful throb of sorrow and distress ripped through me. I wanted to cry. I knew that it wouldn't fix anything.

2D was still in the shower. He had been in there for over a half hour. I guessed he'd probably be a while longer. Between timid periods of silence, his voice would break out and join the steam smoking through the door jamb, filling the room with a fragmented tune lacking a chorus. Sometimes, he shifted the melody to something else completely.

His voice vibrating through me was both soothing and unnerving.

"Déjalo si quieres continuar,

No ocultes tu alma al sol,

Tienes una vida preciosa

¿De qué sirve?

Si solo muerte sobre media ciudad,"

I didn't understand what he was saying. It didn't sound like French, or English, or Mandarin, either.

I speculated how likely it was that 2D knew several languages and never told me, versus the possibility that whatever was possessing him knew them and was singing through him. The pained warble in his throat sounded like him, though. I couldn't deny that.

"¡Si todo va bien!

¿Qué pasa contigo?"

I flipped over on the mattress. It squeaked almost loudly enough to damper the words resonating through the door.

"So what's the matter with me?

What's the matter with me?"

The showerhead was switched to the tap and then turned off. Aside from the gentle pattering of rain upon the rooftop, the house was deathly quiet. A few minutes later, the bathroom door swung open and a stream of virescent light illuminated the far reaches of the bedroom. The sudden vibrancy burned my eyes. I squinted in the direction of the doorway.

Standing there, his silhouette shadowed by the aura cast behind him, 2D whispered.

"Yew're still 'ere?"

The angle of the bulb only served to further distort his expression.

"I never left."

2D approached me warily and stopped at the foot of the bed. His pitch black irises gazed at me with woeful compassion. Lone beads of water pooled at the tips of stray locks of his feathery azure hair. Periodically, droplets would fall and stream thin glittery lines down his bony shoulders or the faintly toned muscles of his chest.

The sweater I'd chosen for him before his shower was slung lopsidedly around his neck. A damp towel with frayed edges dragged on the floor behind him. He hastily dried his hair with it and negligently discarded it atop a heap of dirty laundry next to the hamper.