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It was what felt like the deep hours of the night, but Edgar didn’t know how much of that was true. For all he could care, these little games could be nothing but a trick on his mind, something to torture him with uncertainty as a distraction from what he needed to be focusing on.
He had already been hit once prior and all he could feel was his body seeping weakly into the ground, every muscle seemed to ache and twinge in exertion, worst of all, he couldn’t feel his right arm which he had disturbingly inflicted upon for his most valued painting material. Their hunter was nowhere in sight, he was entirely isolated from his fellow survivors, all that was left was him and his half done painting that he desperately needed to take a break from due to blood loss, which was likely the cause of his faintness.
Heart pounding like thunder from a stormy night out of his chest and his trembling body making it all the more exhaustive to catch his breath. Edgar put a blood stained left hand, his dominant, over his chest, feeling the pulsing palpitations of his lungs desperately gasping for air, harboring in the sky a brilliant full moon illuminating the side of his face, giving off the only luminosity within what could possibly be over a mile.
The eversleeping town seemed to satisfy it’s name, it was nothing but a quiet desolation. A symphony of crows calling in the distance of the empty graveyard where Edgar had chosen to relieve. Back pressed against a cipher machine, already decoded. That meant one of his teammates couldn’t have been too far, but he didn’t desire counting on anyone for pity, per usual, so he sat there solitarily, hoping if he stayed silent there wouldn’t be a survivor finding him in disarray.
He shut his eyes, taking his hand from where it originally rested to an inch's distance above his right arm. The moonlight made it easy to tell the blood was bleeding through his shirt, soaking it with a fresh crimson color. Dropping the hand, he rolled his sleeve up and opened his eyes.
Feeling the flurry of air fall into his wound made him gasp in pain. Normally, his processes wouldn’t have gotten so deep, while kiting he must’ve not been paying attention to how he was pushing his limits. He felt like a fool for letting it get this far, now without the strength to even finish the painting he had harvested his own blood for.
A crack of a branch startled him, taking him entirely aback from his train of thought. The emptiness of the graveyard was clearly evident, he just didn’t understand where it had come from.
Another ruffling in the distance, calling for Edgar to come up with some sort of defense for himself, despite being so vulnerable at the moment. May it have been the hunter, he would’ve been chaired within minutes, but it didn’t sound very beastly or aggressive at all, it was faint but bothersome, and it only continued before Edgar grew more irritated by it.
But then, the weary pants of most definitely a man. It had to have been another survivor, the painter deducted. It was a raspy voice, like he had been running across the town. Wherever the voice may have come from he certainly hoped he had not brought the hunter to him, which would have royally pissed him off.
“Reveal yourself!” Edgar’s voice echoed out, louder than he had intended to be.
At first there wasn’t a response quickly, just then as he heard more disheveling noises a brunette peered over a tombstone, shushing him anxiously.
None other than the prisoner himself.
When he first came to the manor, Edgar didn’t like Luca. Not one bit. He found him incredibly bothersome, insolent and completely halfwitted. Though intelligent, Edgar sought him out to be utterly useless in other fields, especially when he wasn’t in front of a cipher machine, because of this, he treated him poorly, as he treated most others in the manor.
He thought he lacked common sense, but even though he acted so brash to him Luca was always very interested in Edgar. Whenever Luca would approach him, speaking to him Edgar would either ignore him or do everything he could to silence him. Because of that, a distaste for one another grew.
That only was until their first few matches with each other, it wasn’t very long before they began working together. Through several forced conversations (initiated by Luca) to his surprise he found him rather pleasant to be around. He had got it all wrong, he was not only respectful but proved himself to act like a gentleman as well, his opinions had changed vividly.
With time, Edgar saw Luca as an equal, they became acquainted, friends even.
But that still didn’t stop their bickering.
“Excuse me?” Edgar whispered back to him with a distasteful look across his face, he would not stand to be hushed by someone of his status.
However, that did not seem to help him in any way whatsoever, he was returned with another shushing, this time longer and more hostile. “Will you please just be quiet for once?”
Edgar furrowed his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, staying silent as he had asked. It wasn’t long before he heard a deep belaboring of his heart, it only grew louder and more euphonic as heavy footsteps trailed through the graveyard, a bead of sweat trickling down the painter’s forehead in nervousness.
He was going to be found, wasn’t he?
When they drew closer, Luca ducked down again into a sloppy ball and his breathing stopped, eyes shutting entirely when the hunter approached him, Edgar had managed to stay thoroughly hidden, however the other was proximate to those clamorous footsteps.
Edgar identified the gruffness of the hunter’s respires, it called from the front of the cemetery piercingly, striking fear within him, not for himself, but for his teammate.
Soon, the disquieting had stopped and the noisy uproar of the hunter vaulting a window could be heard. Both of them had successfully evaded them by staying quiet, fortunately the two of them had encounters with the hunter earlier in the game so they knew what to do to not be detected, in Luca’s case, it was not breathing.
The prisoner got up from his knees and Edgar panicked to pull his sleeve up before Luca could be stricken with worry. Brushing a few tufts of brown hair from his bad eye he approached the other and kneeled next to him, Edgar refusing to look him in the eye in neutrality as he peered down at him.
Luca was a mess, but what’s new? Knowing his way around a cipher machine tended to put a target on his back, it wasn’t typically long before he was getting chased causing him to be smeared with dirt and sometimes blood. Edgar chose to ignore it, however found it still unpleasant for him to get dirty so quickly.
“That’s why I was telling you to hush,” Luca softly smiled, he looked as if he was happy to see the painter after being in pursuit. He looked absolutely exhausted.
Edgar only winced and pulled his incomplete painting closer.
“So? I don’t need you to warn me, I’m perfectly capable of surviving without your shushes, You on the other hand are the one bringing the hunter near me,” He snapped back.
All that came out in response was a long winded sigh. Now with the brilliance of the moon sheathing Edgar, Luca got a better look at his condition, he was definitely hit, but the blood stains blemishing the cuff and inner portion of his sleeve caught his eye.
Edgar was quick to notice he had been looking and fiercely pulled his arm behind his back with an irked frown.
“You’re bleeding,”
“Wow I had no idea! Do you take me for an idiot?” He sarcastically simpered, crawling with anxieties and discomforts over his wounds.
The last thing Edgar wanted right here right now was for Luca to be agonized over him just because he had gone a bit too far, he would be happy to admit it was his mistake, however he would refuse to let it go any further than it will. Though the bloody sleeve was just growing thicker and more saturated with color. He was in danger, he was bleeding out.
Luca reached out for his arm but pulled away shortly after. Edgar could tell he didn’t want to hurt him or make anything worse than it already was, but still had his intentions set straight to help him, which the painter did not want.
“Don’t, I’m fine,”
Luca raised an eyebrow and got off his knees, sitting down next to him by the cipher. Edgar, still not looking directly at him, turned away, hand gripping his arm weakly as more energy was draining from his body from his blood loss.
The scientist put a gloved hand on Edgar’s shoulder, this broke the lack of eye contact and caused the other to give him a deathly stare.
“Can I see?” He had asked the painter innocently.
It was one more belated perturbed glance later before Edgar gave his response.
“No.”
But per usual, Luca wouldn’t give up this easily. “I want to help you, Edgar, please.”
Edgar didn’t give a retort that time, he only sat there in thought. He knew with certainty Luca would not stop pestering him about it if he didn’t let him at least see his gashes. There was no possible way for him to even resist the prisoner at this point.
He gave Luca a look of disdain, body faint and blood still tattering his hands, chest, arms and a bit on his cheek as well. Edgar looked like a killer straight out of a horror novel, which would be similar to his situation, the roles would only be reversed.
Without saying another word he released the arm from his grip and tugged down his sleeve once more.
All the color seemed to drain from Luca’s face. He put a hand over his mouth in riveting concern.
Not only did Luca not respond, he gave a worrisome glance back to the other man in a clear distress. Edgar didn’t quite know how to feel, it was almost as if he were exposing himself whilst in an already unguarded state.
As the blood ran down his arm he shut his eyes pensively. Edgar felt entirely numb pertaining to the situation, not even knowing where to begin when explaining himself, even though through his eyes he owed no explanation to Luca.
It was a prolonged silence between the two momentarily, neither had anything they thought to say to each other.
Luca’s hand eventually dropped from his mouth to his back pocket where he kept bandages, rummaging through an abounding amount of his tools, he then placed them in his lap and raised another sympathetic look to Edgar.
The painter’s eyebrows only furrowed once again, giving him a scornful expression. Edgar did not want to be healed, let alone touched by Luca as he only saw that as a sign of weakness. Even if he didn’t have the strength to merely pick himself up off the ground he would simply refuse to be an object of pity for anyone, especially the prisoner.
“Stop. I don’t want your help.” Put simply,
Luca sighed, already unsheathing the ample roll, it took a minute to fully release itself from its core and when it did he raised the edge to his snaggletooth, ripping it cleanly.
“Why?”
Edgar began to fume.
“Goddammit can you please stop asking stupid questions? I would rather bleed out than have someone like you pity me enough to feel the need to save me.”
Luca’s blank expression turned into a frown at once, he didn’t know how to respond to a snap like that at first.
“‘Like me?’ Really Edgar? Just stop whining and let me heal you,”
He scoffed in response to Luca’s choices of words. He was entirely against it, that’s what his neurotic conscience managed to tell him at least, but he felt obligated to accept. Maybe it was something in the air, or the temptations Luca was emitting as they always were when he managed to be around him.
Without further ado, Edgar fixed his feeble posture and set his arm over Luca’s legs, which made him pleased enough, giving him that same ‘told you so’ look that had been bothering him for what felt like centuries now.
“Fine. Make it quick. You’re lucky I don’t hate you, Balsa,”
This seemed to make the other smile quite a bit.
“Aww, you like me then?”
Edgar shoved him away with his free hand instantaneously. If you squint, maybe one would say his cheeks turned a bit pink when Luca made that unnecessary comment.
Like him? Absolutely not. If anything, Edgar tolerated him, maybe going as far to say he found him pleasant to be around on an off day. But like? No, at least he would never admit it. Or he thought he wouldn’t.
“No. I do not like you, actually.” He remarked irritably.
“Suit yourself.” Luca shrugged, extending the cloth out and beginning the wrap from the bottom of the painter’s stained arm.
Edgar rested his chin on his left hand as Luca got to work, eyes trailing off to the unintelligible names on the tombstones of the misty cemetery, expecting the anguish and discomfort to begin at any given moment, but before it did, Luca picked his head up once more.
Edgar’s view moved back to the scientist.
“We’re applying a lot of pressure to the wound so it’s going to hurt a lot, okay?”
He rolled his eyes, how many times had he done that already?
“I know how bleeding works, thank you very much.”
There was a pause, Luca giving off an unamused gaze to him but he didn’t continue bandaging his lacerations quite yet.
“A lot of times having something or someone to squeeze onto can help relieve some of the pain. Did you want to hold my hand?”
Edgar could feel himself seething further, flushing up from his anger. Hold his hand. No. Absolutely not. A million times no. He was in such shock and revulsion he couldn’t even look the other in the eye, let alone pay him a response. Or so he thought that feeling was abhorrence, but what else could it be?
What could he even think to be accomplishing by asking such an embarrassing question? There was nothing stopping him from slapping Luca across the face then and there, but resisted regardless, no matter how much he desired to.
“…How disgusting.” Was all he undertook to squeak out.
Luca grinned vexatiously, face softening. Edgar couldn’t pinpoint what he could possibly be smiling about after he just insulted him.
“You’re blushing, I think you want to,” Luca teased.
“Shut up!” He delivered with force without hesitation, absolutely humiliated.
In response to this, it was not long before Luca began uncontrollably giggling to himself.
Edgar felt nothing but embarrassment, was doing this to someone of high status and power enjoyable for Luca? Or did he have different motives?
“Stop it! You think toying with me is a game? You’re going to regret that you idiot!”
“I’m sure I will.” Luca added, changing his gaze to the bandaging which hadn’t made a lot of progress. It wasn’t bleeding through and had been doing a very splendid job, but again he hadn’t hit any of the deep incisions quite yet.
Luca unfurled the gauze over a gaping slash, just then, a gut wrenching pressure hit, excruciating him further. He clenched his teeth down weakly, body feeling as if it was just stabbed, biting his tongue in misery.
It hurt so terribly, Edgar stumbled himself to the closest thing he could grab onto, which of course, had to be Luca’s gloved hand.
Once the aching had ceased, Edgar pulled away from it at once. Both of them were undeniably flustered, especially Edgar, who had been staring directly at the other in relevation, what had originally been a joke had progressed into reality by pure accident.
“Sorry.” Edgar had expressed regret for his misfortune.
Luca stared back, he seemed to be in just as much disarray as the painter did before he slowly took himself back to his chest, breaking their eye contact to unglove it.
Then, he reached for Edgar’s retracted hand, cradling it within his own.
The warm feeling of Edgar’s hand being embraced by another’s was incredibly comforting, sending jolts of energy through him. It hadn’t been repulsive to him or detestable, only stomach churning, striking him with an unfamiliar anxiety, not evening noticing how florid it had made him.
“That’s okay. I… don’t mind,” Replied Luca.
Nothing about this was right. Edgar felt like his heart was trying to escape from his chest so suddenly. He didn’t like not being in control of himself or having a lack of understanding of what was happening to him, questioning himself without reservation.
Edgar did not require back, still in a startling dismay. Had the prisoner really been responsible for making his heart flutter?
There was a fondly tension created between the two men, one that sent them into an inopportune silence.
With an errant, weakly simper, Luca continued with the tourniquet.
“You’re going to do that with one hand?”
“It’ll be slow but you’re worth it,”
Edgar continued to burn up as he relayed the strange feelings over again, being far too sheepish to meet with the other’s eye contact. The way the friction in their encounter had dramatically shifted made him brittle, his lids dropped as his heart continued to thump melodically.
The painter regained some of his strength, moving his stare to Luca, watching as the moonlight bounced off his tanned skin, head facing down as strands of deeply brown hair swayed below him, his bad eye near fully shut and the other squinting to see better in the dark.
Luca had been bewitching, alluring even. Edgar knew he had been growing redder the longer he stared, but he didn’t pull away until Luca looked up at him.
He didn’t say anything about catching him staring, only smiling and proceeding to wrap.
“Luca?”
“Hm?” He paused.
Edgar collected himself, there was something he needed to get off of his chest that had started to weigh heavy like a shot.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
Deepening his grasp onto the other man’s hand, feeling desolate over the words that were about to secede from his lips.
“For being so difficult with you, I’m aware I’m not the nicest person and I’m sorry if I ever hurt you,”
Yuck.
It was true that like every other person Edgar felt deep empathy at times, but before this interaction he had never admitted to having such emotions. He had already felt vulnerable prior, now he felt a million times as such. Luca had done nothing but shown him true kindness and what has he done to return that? He felt guilty, even if admitting it didn’t feel pleasant. He just hoped Luca wouldn’t get the wrong idea from his apology.
The prisoner blinked, then nodded to him. “It’s okay.”
“I’m being genuine,” He added.
“I know, and it’s okay.”
There was a growing quiet, Edgar still in disbelief that he apologized to someone who he originally believed was below him.
But there was another burning fire within him, rocking and shaking him back and forth until he could burst.
“I’m also sorry you feel obligated to do this, my initial understanding was that it was my fault so I deserved to deal with the consequences,”
Edgar felt like he needed to apologize for much more, this sudden wave of self awareness had hit him hard. Later, he would most likely look back at this conversation with disdain for himself, but it didn’t matter now, he wanted to give into his feelings now.
“It’s not your fault, stuff happens sometimes, also, it isn’t an obligation, I wanted to,” Replied Luca.
“It really is, Luca, I can be completely useless at times, I wish I had more to offer.”
He gulped down. It was as if he was suffocating while speaking every word, holding back tears, making him feel entirely weak.
Luca shook his head in disbelief. “But that’s just not true— You know, when you first entered the manor I was almost a bit jealous of you,”
“Jealous? You didn’t strike me as the type, how so?”
“You have plenty to offer, you know. Intelligent, handsome, talented. I could go on,”
Edgar took a few minutes to contain himself, wiping a singular tear from his debilitated face. Though appreciative of the praise and compassion, he had no idea Luca would ever be jealous of him. It didn’t seem in character at all, perhaps he was just saying that to make him feel better.
“Well, I wouldn’t use the word handsome,”
“Beautiful, then,”
Edgar turned beet red.
Because he wasn’t expecting that response from him the pace of his heartbeat dramatically quickened. Edgar would’ve never guessed Luca felt that way towards him, if this was an attempt to act flirtatiously, once more he did not feel disgusted by it, he felt… eager for it.
“Now if I wasn’t mistaken it just now sounded to me as if you were flirting with me, Luca.”
“You think so?” He blushed, not raising his head to avert his eyes.
“Mhmm,”
“You must not be mistaken then,”
Flirting, Edgar thought.
Edgar gave a coquettish smile then looked down to find that the other was making good progress, their conversations had successfully distracted him from the agony it was to envelope his wounds, all while his hand still rested within Luca’s touch.
As Luca made the final touches on his bandaged arm, Edgar turned his attention to their hands, placing their palms flat on one another's and interlacing their fingers, making Luca set free a fragile smile.
The painter's body temperature had risen, he felt like he had been burning up, a continuous ardent feeling in his chest consumed him, whenever he had done something as small as look at Luca it returned, swallowing him, making him unable to speak and body succumb to amour.
“Luca, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what’s wrong?” He declared, tying the bandage down.
“Do you like it in the manor? Or would you choose to go back?”
Luca’s smile disappeared, he looked conflicted at best, taking a moment to determine how to respond.
“Well— I don’t remember anything that happened to me prior— so I guess I would choose the manor. I don’t even know if I had anyone special to me before I entered, so it’s a bit different here,”
Edgar felt semi-guilty at once for bringing it up, the last thing he wanted was for Luca to get uncomfortable over his harmless question, however the last sentence tended to stand out a hint and make his heart race.
“Is that your way of telling me you like me?”
Luca flushed up. “Maybe it is.”
There was a pause as Edgar brushed a few brown tufts of hair from Luca’s face.
“I like you too.”
Just then, Edgar drew closer to Luca. For once, what he initially believed to be absolutely disgusting or revolting felt desirable. His heart started to race, filling up with a burning sensation he couldn’t describe. Extending his now bandaged hand, resting it on Luca’s collarbone, and driving it up his neck and to his cheek. It began to feel more irresistible the closer they got, their breathing matching up, Luca’s eyes only on Edgar and the same for the other.
Edgar pulled him close and ended the gap between their lips, as he shut his eyes he started drowning in more unfamiliar feelings and conceptions, he could feel the prisoner’s touch grow tighter through his hand, and his heart beating thunderously.
He hadn’t kissed anyone before, his first felt awkward, but it made him feel whole nonetheless, it was gentle and much nicer than he imagined it would have been. If you would’ve asked Edgar a day ago what his thoughts were on human affection it would’ve been a one word response: Nauseating, but no, it didn’t feel like that at all.
Within several seconds, they let go, that was until Luca went in once more for another.
But that only led to another, and another after that until Edgar ended up pressing him against the cipher machine as their lips glided together.
Seconds turned into minutes shortly after, and neither wanted to let go.
That was until Edgar took the initiative to pull away, still running his fingers through his hair and cradling his cheeks. The other looked as if he had just got hit by a truck, the disbelief in his face and flushed complexion otherwise. Neither of them spoke, but Luca had a very discernible awkwardly knit smile across his face, causing Edgar to fall into a snicker.
The rest of Luca’s interaction with him was very painstakingly nervous, he tended to stutter over his words and had a lack of comprehension when it came to anything other than Edgar, still blushing furiously.
Perhaps the feelings that were originally thought to be hatred and detestation weren’t so, for Edgar had never felt love for another person until the manor.
Regardless, he couldn’t stop thinking about Luca for the rest of his time there.