stabbing in the dark ~fransykes~

34

This was meant to be a fluff chapter but never mind...

When Josh woke up the room was dark, the curtains pulled shut on top of the drawn blackout blinds. It was silent, eerily silent, and he was alone. He had been in this room enough times to know exactly where he was without even thinking. The dark green walls, the dark wooden furniture, the large double bed with the softest mattress that felt like it was moulded especially for his body; he was in Oliver's room. Groaning, Josh pulled a hand though his hair before reaching out to touch the feathers of his newly acquired wings, sighing in relief when they weren't there.

So had yesterday all been a dream then? His wings were gone, yet he was in Oliver's room, so it must have been real otherwise why would he have been there. Once again Joshua's brain itched with confusion, a feeling he had grown quite familiar with since he had met Oliver. He slipped out from the covers, his vision swaying as heat flowed from his toes to his brain, his legs stumbling forward until he hit the wall with a large thud.

Panting, he collected his thoughts and stood straight, his vision almost clear now as he stumbled out of the bedroom and to the bathroom. The bathroom and hallway were equally as dark too, no sunlight streaming into the house as it seemed every curtain or blind was pulled shut. Josh ran his fingers along the bathroom window sill curiously, cautiously flicking the black out blind up with the tips of his fingers. Suddenly he felt the morning light burning his skin as if it was acid, making him slip his hand away so that the blind fell down on its own, recoiling to the door with a hiss.

He looked down at his now blistering shoulder with a sigh, feeling the tender skin bubble as a red scar already began to form on his snow-white skin. It was like the sun was poisonous to him now, like he had had some kind of allergic reaction to it, his skin scaring simply from its gently, warm touch. His body felt cold now, icy like Oliver's, and yet he wasn't shivering and didn't feel the urge to reach for something warm like he usually did when it was this temperature. In fact the air around him was icy too, his breath creating visible clouds as he breathed shallowly. Joshua turned to the mirror, catching his own reflection for a slip-second before he did a double take, not recognising himself.

His eyes were sunken completely now, with black bags hanging low on his almost grey cheeks. He had the complexion of a corpse, his skin lifeless and his lips lacking their normal pink tint. His back was stained with blood, the skin between his shoulder blades a bloody gouge of ripped skin. He turned away in embarrassment, walking back to Oliver's room before slipping on one of the other boys shirts from the floor, not wanting Oliver to see his body like this. With one last run of his fingers through his lifeless, floppy hair, he cautiously walked down the creaky stairs, glaring over the banister in search of Oliver.

Downstairs was as dark as the rest of the house, the glass panes in the door covered with cardboard that had been secured their with lines of black duck tape. As he reached the bottom of the staircase, the kitchen door sprang open on its own, as if to beckon Joshua inside. Josh listened to the doors silent command, approaching it without much of a second thought. He could hear the wind whistling throughout the old house, the ancient eyes of the walls following his body as he crept by.

With one shaky hand he pushed the door open wider, sighing in relief when he saw that Oliver was inside, kneeled down on the tiled floor. The son of the devil leaned down, a bowl containing a thick red substance in one hand, and a bottle of salt in the over. His gaze was pinned to the floor below, flickering with darkness as he dipped his thumb into the bowl, smearing the liquid across the ground in a pattern Josh had never seen, before pouring the salt on top.

Instantly the room was lit up by an ominous red glow, making Oliver sigh audibly in relief before he fell onto his hands, palms smudging the glowing symbol as he began to chant something, Joshua assumed it was Latin or another language of the sort. When the chant was over, Oliver quickly stood up from his knees, bringing his red stained palm up before sweeping it across his bare chest, the liquid soaking into his skin immediately before it disappeared. He smirked down at his chest, eyes snapping up to meet Josh's wide eyes, face quilt ridden as if he was a child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.