Falling Skies

Fifteen

Though his mind rushes it's only in the sense of an incoherent blur, just a jumble of greens and browns and gray swirled into one, the painted hues jumbled by an artist's brush.

With each step his breath quickens, that tightness in his chest he's become so accustomed to, returning to its rightful place. Each gasp is harder to take as they crash into his rib cage, the boy heaving for every ounce he struggles to secure.

The air has no scent here, the aroma of the wet ground miles away by now and at the same time so close. If he had the courage to turn around, to force his feet to a halt and walk back through the fraying metal door and onto the soft flooring so different from the white tiles his boots effortlessly float above. He craves the sensation of his boots sinking into the mud, the struggle of lifting his feet out of the mess before planting them back down.

As he rounds the white on white corner the labs come into view, the windows that peek into the little rooms becoming visible from further down the hall. At a fork in the hall he takes a left before stopping at a standard metal door.

December doesn't bother with the keypad, rather using the retina scan before the door clicks open and he slips his body inside, cautious of anyone who might be in hearing shot of the unlocking clicks.

Wren sits on the bed oddly alert, eyes peeking up from his lap at the sound of December's entrance, red-tinged brow cocking in confusion before shaking the expression free.

"I already had my shots today." He calls out, nimble fingers fumbling with a spare thread on the mattress.

Something about him looks visibly different, December notices, though he can't quite pinpoint the distinct root of the uneasiness. It's in the same way that Wren appears so human and yet so anomalous all at once, as if his features are too pristine to be correct.

He sits up straighter as he awaits an answer from December, who still stands pressed against the metal doorway. The two boys stand an awkward length apart until December uncomfortably shuffles nearer, just the appearance of the creature causing him discomfort.

"I actually just wanted to talk to you. Person to...whatever you are, the tests were inconclusive." December mutters the last part more to himself, rocking back on his heels now just feet away from the creature sat cross legged before him. His Haven sweatshirt slipping off his right shoulder from the amount of weight he's lost.

Wren grumbles something incoherent under his breath before uncrossing his legs. He fumbles with a bruise on his wrist, the silence now drowning the air as December rubs a finger against his nose, huffing at the intensity of the sensation.

"Do you only know how to find three rooms here? Because for someone that wants me dead you tend to show up a lot." Wren complains, rubbing the damaged wrist against his black sweatpants, the fuzzy cotton catching at his frayed skin.

"Listen," December starts, forcing himself onto the stained mattress next to Wren. The creature's eyes widening in shock for half a second before composing themselves. "I went outside for the first time in my life today."

He presses the words out, one hand drawing deep into his chests as if physically pained by the realization. Yet Wren only stares in silence as December continues his speech.

"And I don't know what it is but I feel like something has changed? Almost as if something is different now? Does that even make sense?"

His words are wild, violent as they fly from his reddened lips and into the deadened room. The creature stares back wide eyed, one hand behind him as if in the process of furthering himself from the crazed man.