The Palace Crumbles

Float

The first thing I feel is something hard striking the back of my head. It slams right into the lower divot where my scalp meets my neck, and a firework of pain shoots through my spine. I am lucky, as I can still feel my limbs, but they are throbbing and freezing. I can feel them going numb with cold.

There is a colossal ringing in my ears. I can feel my brain pulsating inside of my aching head, and I cannot tell if my eyes are open or closed. All around me, there is nothing but darkness.

I float. And then I don't.

Solid ground against my back. I breathe, seeing stars no matter where I turn my head. I smell copper and salt.

My stomach flips. My heart pounds. I don't know where I am.

Someone— I will later realize it was you— lifts me off of the ground, and now I am flying, my limbs weightless yet made of concrete. I feel myself flop uselessly towards gravity, and my carrier struggles to hold me up.

Then I know that I am phasing. Ethereal. I am here, and then I am not. I am alive; I can feel a vein in my neck bulging up and down as someone presses cold fingers against it. I am dead; sleep is the easiest thing to do. I don't know how long I doze, but it's the only way to escape the pain.

Finally, after what feels like days of existing in this expanse of mystery and confusion, my eyes slowly flutter open.

I am laying in a medium-sized bed, with two hard pillows propping my head up. It is terribly dark in here, and I think to myself that I'm sick of the dark. I need to finally see.

There is a sole lamp on my bedside table, which I weakly reach for. My fingers fumble with the chain for a moment, unable to grasp it, but eventually it clicks on. A dim yellow light shines from it, only lighting up a small circle around me. It is enough.

I feel out of place. This room feels like a hotel: it is too cold, too intrusive. The blankets don't feel warm and cozy. They are stiff, and they absorb all of the cold air in the room. The mattress and the pillows are hard. It will be impossible for me to fall asleep once more in these conditions, and that's not even mentioning my pounding headache.

I'm shirtless, and my side throbs with pain. I reach down to touch it, and I feel a layer of gauze wrapping around my entire midsection.

Someone stirs next to me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I haven't noticed I'm not alone.

My head swivels to the side, and I come face to face with a beautiful man. Absolutely stunning, you are. It surprises me. Even in the darkness, I can make out your defined cheekbones, the dark stubble that lines your jaw, your soft lips and long eyelashes. There is a patch of thick gauze on your cheek, stained a light pink.

You are peaceful in sleep, and I wish I could keep you that way. I stare at you, trying as hard as I can to stir up any kind of memory between the two of us.

I only come up blank.

Your eyes open. They are a striking light blue, the color of the ocean. Upon seeing me, your mouth drops open and your eyebrows disappear into the dark curls that lay across your forehead. Shocked, you examine me, your breathing becoming shallow.

You reach for me, wrapping your arms around me in a tight embrace. "Hannibal," you say to me. "Oh, my God. Hannibal!" You press your forehead against the side of my neck, kissing my throat and my shoulder. Your lips are parched, like you haven't left this bed in days. I don't object, even though you are a virtual stranger to me, because your affection feels nice.

I don't appear to be a stranger to you, though. The combination terrifies me.

"Okay, okay, wait." You brush my sweat-soaked hair from my forehead, holding a hand up in front of my eyes. "How many fingers?"