♱ Equalia Falls ♱

CHAPTER 2 - NIGHT TERRORS

The shower was warm, mercifully, and as Warren pulled on his clothes he didn't feel quite so anxious anymore. He thought Equalia Falls would have been a horrifying, dirty asylum with guards and spikes and blood everywhere.

He ambled over to the sinks and borrowed a new toothbrush from a pair of cups on a shelf, squirting toothpaste onto the bristles and brushing his teeth. Once he was done, he checked in the mirror. His teeth were clean, as always.

But he still felt dirty.

So he brushed again.

No, still dirty.

He didn't know why he felt like that. It was always that way; he would try over and over again to feel whole. Otherwise he was a stomach-aching, brain-scrambled mess all day.

"Excuse me?"

Warren jumped, choking on his toothpaste. There was a skinny man standing next to him, reeking of pine wood for some odd reason, with large glasses, acne-spotted skin, and dark, unevenly cut fluffy hair. He was eyeing the tube of toothpaste, which was now significantly emptier than it was before.

"I'm sorry," Warren said quickly, his stomach squeezing into an uncomfortable tight ball. "I just... I was just cleaning my teeth." he blurted, toothpaste spilling down his chin.

The man nodded with a cringe on his face, taking the toothpaste tube away and pressing a tiny dollop onto his own toothbrush. "...All right. You must be Fitzroy."
"I'm Warren," Warren corrected him, "I don't think anyone calls me Fitzroy anymore."
"Ah, all right. I'm Oliver."

"How do you know me?" Warren asked, scrubbing his teeth with the brush. Oliver shrugged. "My aunt knows your mother, I think."

"Okay, that makes sense," Warren mumbled, spitting the minty, stinging, foaming mess into the sink. Clouds of red stained the toothpaste as it was washed away, earning an alarmed look from Oliver. "Oh, goodness."

Warren could taste the salty blood starting to form on his gums and instantly the feeling of discomfort, of dirtiness melted away, leaving him feeling both satisfied and like he was breathing ice every time he inhaled. "I'm sorry for wasting the toothpaste."

"It's fine, it's fine," Oliver smiled, although it seemed more awkward than genuine. "I think you're sharing dorms with me."

"Nice," Warren yawned, grabbing a new uniform from the shelves. "I need a new uniform. Mine is far too puffy and I always feel cold."

"Well, they're not too suitable for the temperature, that much is true," Oliver quipped, adjusting his glasses and scratching at his neck, "I suggest you wear double pants and double shirts. I don't think Serviteur Mairead notices, despite how hell-bent she is on enforcing the dress codes here."

"Mmm, good point," Warren said, taking a pair of each, "Thanks."

Warren emerged from the changing rooms, considerably warmer than before. He could feel his legs and arms now. "Oliver, are you still there?"

"I'm here," Oliver replied, sitting on a chair against the wall, cleaning his glasses. "You feel warmer now?"

"Yeah, it's better," Warren sighed.

Oliver gave him an odd look. "...I think you missed out on dinner."

"Mmhmm."

Oliver said nothing. Warren's brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to see Oliver take out a tiny red bottle from his pocket, labelled with a red cross, and hand it to Warren. "Here. It's good for you, I promise."

Warren inspected the bottle. Was Oliver trying to poison him? He didn't want to worry about it too much, though, so he popped it open and chugged the whole thing. The taste was quite sweet, like a syrup, and instantly there was a cloudy feeling that overtook his train of thought. A wave of calm swept through him, and he felt his usually tense shoulders finally relax. "What is this?"