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This vision was rather persistent.
As real as this one seemed to be, he was trying his best to talk to the orange-haired male.
Pico didn't know if he liked or disliked the attention. He was convinced that this was a hallucination at first. A manifested figment of his inner demons trying to lure him into insanity. It all seemed so surreal.
Although, whenever He was around the other visions and whispers would cease, if only for a moment. It was as if He chased them away. Like He was a medication, except he didn't have to deal with the mechanical soulless feeling of the side effects. He was the only voice; the only vision he would see. It was addictive.
Without Him, the whispers would appear louder and more frequent. Without Him, the visions would be clearer and cross closer into his full line of sight. His sleep was becoming more affected by the intrusions. He would eat even less during dinner, consistently feeling nauseous at the thought of dealing with his inner turmoil of the night ahead.
His body was taking a toll for the worse in the process. Dark circles that already were lightly present on his pale face were nearly bruises they were so prominent. He lost even more weight without even noticing it, the bottoms of his rib cage starting to protrude from his sunken in stomach. His baggy pants no longer would fit unless he wore a belt to hold them up on his bony hips. He felt weaker than ever before. Just walking to school was an effort.
The nights were full of terrors. Every single night, he would hear them. They were always louder when darkness surrounded him. The voices were so loud it would keep him up at nearly all hours. He didn't know what they were saying, it was never clear enough for him to understand. Just hushed whispers that frightened him awake. Don't respond to them, he never did, but they were getting so hard to ignore. The only amount of sleep he would get is if he passed out from exhaustion.
The only salvation he would look forward to was waiting for him at school. As much as he disbelieved in Him. Pico knew that He was the only reprieve he could have. Even if it was for only a moment of peace.
“Ngh! Hah... Ugh...”
Pico sat up abruptly in his bed, as the near shout in his ear woke him up. It was like this every morning. He'd barely get an hour or two worth of sleep at night, only to be shocked awoke by a particularly loud hush that he could only describe as “Get Up!” It was harsh and cold and shook him to his core every morning. A cold sweat decorating his entire body, it was always the same.
His breath came out in pants, as he blinked heavily at the dark empty wall in front of his bed. Swallowing thickly, he tried to calm himself further. “Get a hold of yourself...” He spoke softly outloud, as he looked down at his shaky palms. They felt near numb, as a static like feeling would clam up his hands. He tried to clench and un-clench his fingers to gather feeling back into himself once again before resting his head into his palms. Rubbing his eyes harshly, he heard the distinctive “laughter” of the sounds coming through once again almost like they were making fun of his misery.
Opening his eyes, he could barely recognize the layout of his room as he recovered from the blotchy shapes that formed from the ball of his hand pressing into his eyelids before clearing again. A shadow crossed his vision, but he ignored it. They were becoming more aggressive in their form. They were still grayed out shadows, but they were starting to grow arms and heads that would try and reach out to grab him recently. He knew that they weren't real, but he couldn't help but to flinch away at the sight when they would try and get him.
He ran a hand through his signature orange locks, the hair gel washed out from the previous night's shower. The lifelessness of his own hair lay flat against his head giving the look of bed-hair from their messy appearance.
Climbing out of the blankets, he glanced over at his clock on the end table at the right of his bedside. 5:23am, it read in bright red digital format. A sigh left his tired lips as his head fell between his shoulders. Another restless night. At least this particular one he slept for three hours instead of his usual two. It was still near pitch black outside his curtained windows. The shades of deep purple were starting to line the sky in preparation of the sun's appearance over the horizon.
Climbing out of bed, he walked a memorized path in the darkness of the house. Luckily, when it was this dark, the shadows were near invisible to him. The only drawback was that the sounds would be louder. Taunting him. He didn't know what they were saying, and he never wanted to find out.
Reaching the spare bathroom in the house, Pico walked in and shut the door behind him. In the bathroom, the sounds grew even louder as if they were echoing off the tiles. He knew he stood in front of the sink, lifting an arm to flick the light switch.
Blinded by the immediate dull florescent bulbs, the freckled male pulled an arm over his eyes as he blinked harshly to ease his sight to the suddenly lit room.
He pulled his arm away when he was more adjusted.
A shadowed figure, much taller than his own, loomed behind him in the mirror. A sharp sound of fear left his throat at the creature. Pico flinched and jerked suddenly towards his left, wide eyes glancing around to try and find the perpetrator behind him. There was no one there, of course.
A sigh left his lips as a cold palm rubbed his face, bony fingers tracing his own slightly protruding cheekbone. That was one of the most realistic visions he has had so far. Other than meeting Keith, that is. Yet, he found out that He wasn't a vision at all. He was real. He is real...This isn't. Keith had a name. He had warmth. He was kind. He spoke clearly and non-threateningly. These figments didn't.
A stuttered sigh left his tired lungs, as he focused his sight on the actual faucet on the sink. Turning on the water, he put it to cold and splashed his face a few times The shock to his system left him gasping as he looked back up at himself in the mirror. The shadow no longer there. The sound was drowned out by the rushing water from the sink, hushing the voices for now. He left the faucet run for a bit before shutting it off. The drips of water echoed in the small bathroom from the point of his chin.
Pico glanced over at his left to the medicine cabinet mirror hanging on the wall. He saw his reflection in the smaller mirror, as he sighed to himself. He did look horrendous. His face looked so pale that if he already didn't know, he would have believed himself to be an apparition. Those dark circles under his eyes were a clear indicator of his sleeping pattern. No matter how exhausted he felt, he could never sleep for very long. His thin weight was even affecting his facial structure. His cheeks looked more sunken in than before, as it brought a frown to his overall sad appearance.
Reaching a hand up, he pulled open the cabinet. A series of prescription bottles lined the contents of the thin cabinet. Grabbing one of the bottles, he could distinctively hear the contents of the pills rattle in the plastic tube as he glanced at the label.
The one he was holding was supposed to be the inhibitor for his schizophrenic tendencies. The dose was low as he was supposed to give it a test run and go up as needed if his condition got worse. Pico thought that this particular one was the main source of the side effects. The lists of all of them written in small letters on the bottle, nearly taking up the entire orange plastic circling it.
These medications were a wayward solution to his mental issues, but he just didn't like to take them. Some people take prescriptions to get high, or to actually experience that fuzzy feeling that would float on his brain. It terrified him to be that way. He could hardly focus on anything and didn't even feel human while on the regimen. He mostly felt like he was floating through the day, hardly registering his lectures let alone homework.
Grabbing the rest of the pill bottles, he dispensed his usual doses of each medication, making sure to be as accurate as possible. A collection of around seven pills collected on the side of the sink, as he placed the tops of each bottle back on and lined them up back in the medicine cabinet before closing it.
He looked at the small pile of tablets and capsules and sighed softly. He cupped a hand at the corner of the sink and slid the pills into his palm. Walking over to the toilet, he lifted the top of the seat cover, dropping the medications into the sitting water. The plops of the medications hitting the liquid were so profound in the small of the bathroom. He was hoping his parents weren't up yet to hear it, he made sure to lock the door before coming in after all.
Flushing the toilet to rid himself of the major interference of the day, he stepped back in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror once again.
It was much too early to get ready for school yet, but he didn't have much else to do.
Perhaps he would see his salvation again today.
~ O ~
“Hey, BF~!”
Cherry turned her attention from Darnell and waived gently at the approaching aquamarine haired male.
A smile crossed Keith's face at the greeting, glancing between her and his taller friend behind her. “Yo, guys!” He waived brightly, catching both hers and the darker male's attention easily.
Cherry greeted her ex with a side-hug, while Darnell gave his signature fist in greeting. Keith wrapped his arm around her slim frame and lifted his free hand to give his own fist to bump against his best friends.
Idle chatter circled them as they all walked together to the cafeteria. Lightning-blue lead the team, as the trio all went to their usual spot to sit for their meals. Keith pulled up his lunchbox onto the table, as his friends did the same as they discussed their plans for the weekend. Friday is finally upon them.
A full week seemed to go by in a flash after the introduction in the library between him and Pico. Sad to say, Keith has not had the opportunity since that day to make another attempt. The ginger haired male was being elusive. Instead of slinking away to the abandoned library at all during this week, he had always been attentive at his usual spot in the cafeteria.
What made it harder was that the sweater-clad figure would always beat them to the lunchroom no matter how fast he tried to get there. He was already seated at his usual spot in the corner, eyes dead-locked on the table in front of him. No lunch in sight, as normal as it seemed.
His friends cornered him that following day, after his meeting with Pico, in the lunchroom. They were asking what happened to him, and how come it took so long for him to go to the bathroom. He made an excuse that he just had an upset stomach and didn't feel very well. Cherry, with her usual empathetic ways, offered some motherly advice to help with stomach cramps to ease pain. Darnell, on the other hand, was much more difficult to convince.
Telling that fib, he could see his best friend's eyes squint with suspicion. He has known Keith for far longer than Cherry, and therefore has witnessed him lying before. He raised his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, shoulders rising with a glance to his left at the silent accusation. That nervous tic easily had Darnell leering with caution. He accepted the excuse, this time. He didn't know if he could pull this stunt again without a comment back from him.
“Are you guys doin' anything this weekend?” Keith spoke out trying to have his voice heard among the crowd. He had to be more careful with his stares. He was in here again, as still as ever. Half listening, he would only try to take a glance back at the ginger when he saw that he was in the clear to not get caught. Darnell was already onto him, and it wouldn't take long for Cherry to get it either.
The chances he got for a look were short, but he definitely got a picture forming of his condition. Pico looked terrible. Ever since they met in the library and he shared his lunch with the other boy, his condition seemed to have worsened.
Even when he shared his lunch on that Monday, he barely ate half of the sandwich that he offered that day. Their talk was minimal, Keith doing most of the chatting. The orange-haired male would only give short nods or shakes of his head in response. Those impressive eyes glancing up momentarily, from their lock with the wooden table, during their talk.
The questions were all simple yes or no ones that Keith asked him. He quickly found out that asking complex questions like, “what was his favorite subject” or “what was his favorite video game” got him nowhere. He definitely asked those, but he was given a near blank stare in return. His near white eyes glancing between him and the table as he seemed to fumble with “um's” and “uh's.” Keith would quickly say that it didn't matter and rapidly change the subject to get the spotlight off of the other man.
He would notice that during those moments of uncertainty, he would raise his hand to clasp his left shoulder. It seemed to be a nervous habit, as he would twitch lightly at the touch. Whenever he noticed himself doing it, however, he would promptly stop and lower his hand back to his leg to rest on. It brought a sense of worry to grace Keith's thoughts at the action. This kid seemed a little out of touch. This was going to be a harder fix than he imagined. He could hardly get him to speak, let alone get a grasp on his personality to help fit him into a crowd at school.
Those days passed with no further effort towards the quite boy. Keith was at a loss on what to do next. He got, virtually, nowhere with his efforts in the library. He didn't want to crop him up as a lost cause, but his ideas were running short. He only saw him for two periods in the day. His first class, and lunchtime. He never saw that distinctive green sweater any other time during the day no matter how much he tried to find him. He just seemed to disappear at the end of the day without a trace.
Today seemed to be the same as the others. He never went back to the library again. He didn't know if he felt harassed from the conversation they had together or not. He didn't seem to be angered by the interaction. The only emotion he could crop up, mostly, was fear and anxiety. It seemed to melt a little on the edges after he started to respond with gestures, but it was still prominent in his figure. He thought that after the greeting, he would want to engage with the blue boy once again, but he never made any attempts.
As the days progressed, he noticed a deterioration in his appearance. He still adorned that green sweater and beige khakis as usual. Nothing changed about his attire and his hair was still up in its usual Mohawk. What was different was that his complexion was paler than usual. Those freckles stood out in stark contrast to the ghostly skin on his face. The bags under his eyes were like two dark bruises, like he was punched in the eye-sockets. His cheekbones were more defined than usual, making him seem scrawnier than before.
As his friends chatted about what they were going to do for their long weekend break, he gave another casual glance back at Pico. Keith did a double take, this time moving his entire head sharply at the sight of his target, making Darnell pause in his rant about driving his dad's car.
What greeted his emerald gaze was a shocking sight. What the normal glances before were of the same still figure. Pico staring at the table with immense focus that he looked almost like a statue. The next time he glanced, the other male was nearly face-down on the table. It happened so fast, he didn't even hear or notice a sound or movement.
Focusing his full attention over to Pico, Keith's brow furrowed in worry.
“What the hell happened to him?” Darnell blurted out, making Cherry look over as well in curiosity. They seemed to be the only onlookers, as no one else even noticed the major change in the cafeteria.
“Did he fall asleep?” GF asked quietly, glancing between BF and the unconscious kid.
“I don't know...” Keith said softly, assessing the situation before him. His upper torso was laying on the table, arms probably in the same position on his legs. He seemed to have just “fallen asleep” in his spot, dropping his head down on the lunch table like he was hit with a tranquilizer.
The bell startled all of them, signaling the end of their lunch period. All except for the near comatose kid in the corner. Pico would usually be the first to leave, he didn't even flinch this time.
“Well... Off to class, man. I'm busy this weekend, Dude, but we can chat on COD tonight if you wanna.” Darnell stood to stretch, encouraging Cherry to stand with him. “Dude?” He asked again, when he got no response or reaction from the stricken blue-haired boy.
Taking a glance back at his friends, Keith slowly stood with them. “Uh, yeah. You guys go on without me.” He kept his eyes on the unconscious male, as he waived off his friends giving his fist as a good-bye.
The cafeteria was clearing out, as more kids were leaving. Darnell gave a pout, opening his mouth to make an argument about how that other kid is probably dead, until GF tugged at his shirt softly. Brown eyes looked down at similar color hair, as she nodded her head towards the exit back to class. A silent plea to keep his mouth shut. The taller male sighed, looking back at his best friend and his fist still left hanging. He could never forgo a fist-bump. “Don't take too long, man. See-ya later.” He pressed his knuckles into those familiar ones, before walking off with Cherry, leaving the the lunchroom vacant with the couple.
Bright cyan hair waved lightly at the movement of him glancing around the cafeteria. The entire lunchroom was empty except for the two of them. The silence was so loud compared to the idle chatter of kids enjoying their lunch just moments before. Reaching over, he grabbed his empty lunchbox and leaned down to snatch and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders. The room echoed from his shuffling in the process.
The footsteps seemed to echo, as he made his way around the maze of lunch tables, making a beeline towards the immobile form. As he approached the sweater-clad male from the front, it was extraordinarily unsettling to see the other man in such a state. For over a month, he was always consistent with his routine. Whenever he was visible to Keith, anyway. Sitting in first period class, he wouldn't have any paper or pencils out at all for notetaking. He would just sit there, staring at his desk, not making any movement except for raising his hand for roll call and blinking every so often. During lunch, he would do nearly the same thing. Staring at that same spot as before, immobile. The only thing that could force him to move would be that bell.
This time the bell did nothing to stir him.
Keith carefully approached the lifeless ginger. Sage colored irises rolled over his figure. Standing off to his side, his gaze traveled to his upper back, noticing a slight rise and fall. He was breathing, at least. Emerald eyes eventually landed on his pale face. His head was resting on its side facing Keith. He looked rather peaceful, except for the horrendous bags under his eyes. His mouth was open slightly, encouraging the notion that he was still taking in oxygen.
The lightning-blue male gasped in shock as the tardy bell rang, knocking him out of his slight trance and looking up at the speakers momentarily before dropping back down onto the ginger. He was never late for a class before, but he thinks he can make an exception this one time. Leaning down he took a cautious seat next to the passed-out kid. “Pico...?” He spoke quietly at first, trying not to scare him in case he was only resting his eyes.
No response. Not even a flinch. If the bells from before didn't wake him, he should have guessed that a soft whisper wouldn't work either. He decided to try again. “Pico?” He said a little firmer, raising a hand to gently grasp the sweater covered shoulder of the other nearly resting on the table. His worry was increasing by the second, as he gently caressed the bony shoulder. Dark brows lifted in concern at the condition that may lay under the baggy clothes of the other male.
He didn't seem to be waking, not even a twitch of the eyebrow or lip in reaction. Keith's unease was building, as he removed his hand from the thin shoulder. Deciding to take action, he was prepared for the consequences of a violent awakening. Grabbing the handles of his lunchbox, he pulled his arm through them to have it hang off of his left arm since his backpack was rather small and filled with schoolbooks. Leaning down, Keith gently grabbed his left arm and placed it around his own shoulder.
It was a little awkward based off of the tables design, where the chair was attached. Placing a hand around his thin waist, he hoisted him to a standing position. He was, in fact, much shorter than Keith. He didn't notice it while sitting, but he was a good six inches shorter, perhaps more if he actually measured. His head flopped forward looking very uncomfortable, as Keith used that leverage to his advantage. He let go of the arm around his shoulder, gripping firmer with his other arm around his waist, to lean down and curled it under his knees. Pausing his position to a step back to free himself from the confines of the lunch table, he lifted the other man up with surprisingly immense ease.
He was much lighter than he thought, as he looked down at the pale figure. He was pressed comfortably against his chest, still not moving an inch. He was certain that after that jostle, he would have awoken by now. He looked as content as ever. It was difficult to see from his angle, as Keith inspected him further. The arm that was pressed between them, was flopped casually across his abdomen as his other arm was hanging down from his side. That pale cheek was nearly tucked into his neck, feeling the small breaths of the other ghost across his collarbone through his shirt. A light tint of a blush crept across Keith's cheeks in embarrassment, as he swallowed thickly. He had to get him to the nurse. Yeah, that would help him.
No one else was in the hallway, and he was free to begin his journey to the nurse's station. He trekked as gently as he could to not jolt the man, he was holding any further than needed. The feeling of another person that he was carrying wasn't unfamiliar to him. He's held Cherry like this before, even casually, as sometimes she would jump him and expect him to catch her which he always did. Her body was massively different than Pico's. She had more weight to her, more curves and radiated a feeling of warmth that would signify life. If he focused enough, he could actually feel her heart beating through her back against his arm.
This did not feel remotely the same. Pico was very thin, the weight almost nothing to Keith. He wasn't a body builder, but even he could tell the difference between him and a backpack full of books. The schoolbooks felt heavier in comparison. The warmth of another person was not prominent from him at all. He felt colder, his pale skin adding the clammy look to his thin frame further. The strong beat of a heart was not pulsing against his arm in confidence.
Stopping a wave of paranoia struck, Keith shifted Pico in his arms, not that he was getting tired. He pulled his arm holding up his torso back towards himself and pressed his palm to his protruding spine, making sure that he wasn't holding a cadaver instead. It was rather unsettling at the feeling of the bones through the sweater he was wearing. He stared at the orange hair that nearly clouded his vision, and focused. A faint thud was felt against his hand. He sighed in relief.
Restoring his previous hold, blue hair jerked slightly at the movement, as he regained his position from before. Pico had yet to awaken. This didn't seem normal at all. There was no way he was asleep, he couldn't be. Green eyes looked up at the end of the hallway where the door to the nurse was at and continued his quest.
Once he reached the door, he managed to free an arm to give it a knock. After waiting a few moments, his brow furrowed in question and attempted again. Still no response. Keith took a step back to look around and then back to the door in suspicion only to see a note attached to the door. “Out for a minute... Be back soon!” Written in bright colorful letters and pictures of flowers surrounding it. “Where's a teacher when you need one...?” the blue boy mumbled softly in anger.
Looking back down at a sea of orange, green darted back up to look back at the cafeteria doors that lead to the outside. He has never been a troublemaker before and was always considered a good kid ever since he was a small child. He always listened and did what he was told from the teachers. He was never written up and always had good grades in class.
His emerald gaze darted between the man in his arms and out those doors. Looking back at the nurse's office, he turned towards the cafeteria. Gripping Pico closer to his chest, he swiftly walked back making sure to look around for any suspicious wondering students or teachers that may have been patrolling.
He could feel his pulse quicken with panic, as he finally reached the glass doors. Giving once glance back, he could hear the sound of footsteps echoing from one of the halls in the quiet corridor. That was probably a hall monitor, or the principle. He didn't want to look back and find out.
It was too late to think twice.
Keith turned to his side and pressed his entire weight into the metal-push hinge door and busted out of the school. He could hear a loud “Hey!” follow behind him as he made a dash for it. The autumn cold October wind hit him in the face with biting force, as he left the heated building behind him. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so this wasn't exactly the smartest idea, his jacket was in his locker. It was too late to go back now. He didn't even think of how the frigid air would affect the man he was holding. He was already pretty cold to start, even though he was wearing a turtleneck sweater. He never saw him with anything else, so he didn't give it a second thought as he braced the outside temperature.
Adrenaline coursed through his body, almost not even feeling the small weight in his hands of Pico at all. His legs began to move automatically, sprinting as fast as he could. His breath ghosted past him as he ran. He knew the direction of his home, and it was not far by car, but about a forty-minute walk.
Even with the harsh movements of his running, Pico was still out like a light in the midst of his panic. The first place he looked at for coverage was the shed out by the track and bleachers. Curling Pico closer to his chest, he made a dash for it. The teacher was rather far down the hallway when he heard the yell, and even with the body he was holding he was rather quick on his feet. Being bogged down by a full backpack and another person didn't faze his speed by much at all.
Making it to the shed, he leaped behind it, making sure to hide himself from the view of the front doors of the school, hearing it open after he hid. His back nearly slammed into the wooden wall, already hurting from the force of his spine crushing his backpack between it. He panted from the short sprint, trying to keep as quiet as possible as he waited, hoping that the teacher or monitor didn't see him. Listening closely, he could hear the clank of the school doors close after about a minute of hearing them shout. “You'll be in a world of trouble when I get a hold of you!” It seemed that they didn't notice his aqua colored locks, he was the only kid in school with blue hair after all.
Sighing in relief, he slid himself down to the cold ground, easing his grip a little on Pico. Keith's legs rested out in front of him, as he placed the ginger more onto his lap than against his chest. The arm holding his legs released them and flopped against the ground. His other pulled his upper body closer to his heaving chest, gripping the shoulder that wasn't pressed against him to keep Pico from falling.
Gaining his breath back a little, Keith leaned to the side to look down on the other male. He was still completely out, almost like he didn't just get sprinted across the campus. He was pressed against his sternum, probably able to feel the pounding of his heart from the excursion. Surprised that alone didn't wake him since his ear was pressed against his overworking heart.
Calming his panting further, Keith swallowed a bit to help get himself in check. He pulled his left arm back to pull away some of the blue locks that got into his face from the run. Forest green eyes looked back over at the still unconscious ginger in his lap. He didn't want to conjure this all up to him sleeping, especially when he was jostled as roughly as before and brought out in the cold with no reaction at all.
Keith, gently, used his free hand to lift his face up, giving him access to a lightly freckled neck. He carefully gripped his chin, holding his head in place. His pinky pushed down the neck of his sweater a little as he pressed two fingers against his pulse. He closed his eyes to start counting. After a minute, he released him with a puzzled look. He knew of the average beats per minute when it came to a resting body, thanks to his gym class that he took last year. His heart rate was rather slow, almost like he was actually sleeping. However, the force behind the pulse was weak, he was barely able to make out a few beats on time because of it.
Pressing his luck further, Keith knew that he was violating his privacy, but it was for Pico's safety. He moved his gaze from his face to his abdomen, eyebrows creasing further in worry. As gently as he could, he grabbed that thin wrist that lay across his stomach, and placed it flat on his own thin leg, out of the way. His hand grabbed the hem of that signature green sweater, as he glanced back up at the closed lids of the other man, as if to ask for permission that would never come.
Lifting that shirt up to his chest, Keith gasped eyes widening in complete shock. His stomach was nearly caving in on his torso. His ribs were very visible and even protruding out a little from his stomach. It looked like he was starving himself to death; he could only imagine what the rest of his body covered up by his clothes looked like. He thought he was scrawny, but this was a near walking skeleton. Protecting the other males decency, a little, Keith pulled back down his shirt to keep him warm again.
Looking back up at closed lids, the taller male's heart went out to the ginger. He had no idea he was suffering like this. Keith looked back up and out towards the distance. If he sped walked, he could make it to his home in about thirty minutes. His parents were working now and wouldn't be home until about five that evening. He knew that this was probably a form of kidnapping, but clearly Pico's parents didn't seem to care about their son's condition. He was certain that he wouldn't be missed for a few hours at the least.
~ O ~
The blissful emptiness of sleep was slipping from his grasp. Pico tried to hold onto that abyss as long as he could. To savor every moment of the silent darkness he could get. Before the endless torment would begin once again. Before the voices would taunt and jeer him endlessly during his every waking moment. Before the shadows and shapes would creep up on him from the sides of his vision. Before the paranoia of hallucinations would cripple him from his past of the blood that was shed.
It was all fading and he tried, as feeble as it may, to hold on.
The first thing that greeted his senses was sound. Normally, he would hear the harsh whispers of the voices that would jolt him awake without mercy. However, this time all he heard was the sound of breathing and a gentle thud of a heartbeat. It was not his own, that he was sure of. It confused him. Did the voices manifest to only harm him further? Nothing else was heard. Just soft breathing and the beating melody of a heart at work.
The second thing to gather was warmth. It was odd, because the warmness seemed to be radiating from a certain point that he was huddled against. The last thing he remembers was being in the lunchroom and then blackness suddenly dropped on his exhausted body. He doesn't even remember what had happened to him. Where was he? Why was he warm? Why wasn't he hearing those familiar, horrid, voices?
The third was scent. A rather peculiar odor invaded his senses. It was rigid, covering the under-scent of musk only attributed to a male. It smelled like a particular type of cologne he wasn't familiar with. Cologne?
Orange brows scrunched in confusion, forcing his droopy eyelids to open with blurry vision. What invaded his final sense was white at first. His sense of body was altered, as he realized he was leaning against something. Or someone, actually. Hazy, milky, eyes blinked for clarity as he looked over to his left, not having the energy to move a muscle. More white filled his sight, as he glanced down to see a red circle with a line crossed diagonally over it. He was expecting the visions to appear. Those long tendrils reaching for him, but nothing was seen.
Lazily blinking further, Pico looked over to his right forcing his head to move slightly to allow him to see. He was outside. The blue sky was showing, and an array of trees and grass lined his sight. His gaze squinted, not believing what he was seeing. How did he get outside?
“Hey there...”
Pico flinched harshly, eyes widening in horror as he stared out at the open field, too scared to look at what made that sound. He knew that it was too good to be true to live in this quiet fantasy without those voices to haunt him again. It was only a matter of time before he would be consumed back to the nightmares of his daily life, endlessly haunted by the apparitions that would never leave him alone.
~ O ~
Keith's entire frame shuddered at the jolt of the other male. He could see from his view that Pico had awoken, finally, as he was about to start up his journey back home. He was probably confused as to why he woke up outside rather than in school, but that could be explained easily he guessed.
He spoke out softly, to not alarm him any further only to be met with a stiff flinch. His head whipped around so fast that he was sure to have whiplash, as intense white irises met soft greens.
What he didn't expect was for Pico to jerk away from his grasp. The hand that was grasping his shoulder easily let go to accommodate the sudden movement to prevent a dislocation. When he jerked back, he nearly bounced himself on his ass a few feet away, shuffling to attempt to stand. He could see the way he struggled, as he couldn't get a leg under him, he fell to his side. The ginger swayed on his arm that held him from completely hitting the ground. He looked like he was going to faint.
“Hey, woah, Pico...! It's me, remember?”
Keith didn't want to startle him any further, lifting his hands out in innocence. He got to his knees to lean closer to the other male a few feet away, reaching his arms out and ready to catch him if he were to fall.
His breathing was labored as if he had run half of a mile, those incredible eyes locked onto the ground below him. Thin brows furrowed further in concern as if he was contemplating what was said to him. Pico blinked, a gasp leaving his breathless figure, eyes widening before turning towards the blue boy.
“K-Keith...?”
It was quiet and spoken in such disbelief that it nearly broke his heart. “Yeah, it's me... I'm surprised you remembered my name...!” He smiled softly, lowering his arms a little, still prepared to catch him if needed. His body was shifting with his breathing he looked so shaken. Those pale irises looked over at him in such astonishment, almost like he was seeing through him.
Keith's smile turned into a shocked frown as the man before him shook violently, his ghostly form growing even paler if possible. A harsh sway had him battling to keep his eyes opened as he suddenly dropped to the floor completely. He was faster, as the taller man leaped forward to catch the ginger, sliding an arm under his torso for support. “Woah, Pico! Dude...!” He nearly shouted in concern.
He was nearly limp again, managing to hoist him up enough to gather him to his knees. Keith leaned down, pulling that familiar arm around his shoulder, as his other wrapped around his waist to stabilize him. Pulling the smaller male closer, he allowed the other head to rest against his collarbone to prevent it from hanging down uncomfortably. “You gotta stop that, man, you're in no shape to be jumpin' around like that.” He spoke softly.
He heard a soft groan echo from the other male's throat, noticing those pearl-colored eyes blink with an unfocused haze. At least he was still awake, for now it seemed. “My home isn't too far from here. I can take you there and get you all fixed up. How does that sound?” He offered. If Pico was going to completely refuse, he would let him go, of course. Although, he doubted that he could make it back to school, let alone stand up without passing out again.
Keith stood, dragging the other man with him. His thin, shaky, legs looked like a newborn colt trying to walk for the first time. He had to lean down a little to accommodate the height differences between them. There was no way he was walking back to school, not if Keith had anything to say about it. “I'm taking you home, dude. You look like you're about to drop any minute.” He stated, hoping to discourage the other from fighting anymore.
Without waiting for a reply, the blue boy gripped his left arm tighter onto that thin waist. Making sure he was safely secure, Keith leaned down to sweep his right arm behind the others knees. Carefully, he lifted the other man effortlessly, having Pico's right shoulder this time pressed against his chest. He looked so out of it that he hardly noticed that he was being carried.
Keith shifted himself to get a more comfortable and secure grip, lightly jostling Pico in the process. The movement had the ginger press his face into Keith's chest, his right arm flopping down from the broad shoulder to rest across his own abdomen this time. Sage colored eyes looked down at those incredibly amazing, unfocused, ones. “Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep us warm.”
Dark brows furrowed, once again, in worry as those tired eyelids closed. “Pico?” He questioned softly. No response was given, not even a wince. He was down for the count, once again.
The brush of a strong wind made sapphire hair blow wildly, a chill running up his spine. He had to get him home before it got even colder from the approaching evening. Turning around, Keith walked over to his nearly forgotten empty lunchbox that was kicked to the side from Pico's earlier outburst. Keeping his torso as straight as possible to keep a strong hold on the other male, he knelt down to pick it up by the handles. Sliding it over his arm, like before, Keith gripped his hold back onto thin legs once again.
Turning back around, he looked towards the horizon in the direction of his house that he has memorized from the many bus trips he's take throughout the years of going to school. Taking his first step, he began the journey home, carrying the silent and smaller man with him.