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On occasion, sinners would find bits and pieces of other identities bleeding into their own selves. Some days, Heathcliff would wake from dreams of chanting and blood. Sometimes, Ishmael would find a pounding headache and a weight on her mind. And some days, the bleed over was more physical.
Yi Sang awoke to a hollow rapping on his door. The lights in his room flicked on with his eyes, assaulting his sight with white, white, white. He squinted and squirmed deeper into his blanket. The comfort of his futon grasped him tightly in the midst of his cold room. He did not wish to step out into the world yet. The knocking grew louder and quicker, the sounds of vibrating metal like a pounding headache filled every inch of his room. He sat up.
“What, what, what?” He muttered as he flung his blanket around his shoulders and strode to the door.
He cracked it open and glared at the other side.
Gregor stopped knocking as soon as he heard the door creak open. “Hey, Yi Sang bud. I need a favor.”
Yi Sang looked out into the world through his lens. His only manner of observation were his eyes and the only pencil was his mind, still, he attempted to take note of every detail of this moment. He was a researcher after all.
Gregor stood at the door, though his back was strangely hunched. He had been knocking at the door with his human arm, but his insectile claw was strange. It bent at the wrong angle, and he held it close to his body in a manner reminiscent of the praying mantises Yi Sang had once seen in his hometown.
“Mmh,” Yi Sang exhaled before stepping to the side and pulling the door wide open. “Please, come in.”
Gregor marveled at the brightness of the room. White square tiling from foot to ceiling, rubbery, but not quite soft. The only items inside were the bed and a small chest to the side. It reminded him of…
“Ah, Yi Sang bud, this is the style used at N Corp’s labs, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s a place held deep in the fathoms of my mind, as I’m sure you recall.”
“Ah,” Gregor winced, “Sorry.”
“No, no. It is only reflections now. I am merely sorry about the memories it may stir for you. But allow me to question, your difficulty is with your arm, yes?”
Gregor pursed his lips. Without a word, he pulled his shirt up revealing his wings. They had been shredded, as though a butcher had taken a steak knife and hacked away at a newspaper. They still twitched, even as blood traced across the tips.
“Oh.”
“Here, sit down.”
Yi Sang pulled his futon closer.
“Yi Sang, I don’t want to ruin-“
“Please, it will make the procedure easier.”
Gregor sat down.
“Now, remove your shirt.”
A hot blush bloomed on his cheeks. “Yi Sang, I-“
“It does not need to be pulled off all the way. Just enough to examine the damage,” he said, his attention focused on rummaging through his chest.
Gregor still flush with embarrassment pulled his shirt over his head, letting it sit on his shoulders so that his back was bare, revealing scarred skin, gnarled with bits of chitin breaking through the skin, and of course his torn wings. Yi Sang returned, a roll of bandages and a bottle of iodine in hand. He set them down to the side of his futon.
“Now, if I may ask, may I touch them?”
“Course Yi Sang bud.”
Yi Sang knelt beside him. With a light touch, he ran his fingers on the underside of Gregor’s wings. They trembled under his touch, the forewings rubbing against each other, making a low buzz. The edges were made of a sort of chitin that encased the inner membrane. Torn and blood stained as they were, they still shimmered with a gossamer light.
“The outer wings are called elytra, a shell to protect the inner wings that are capable of flight,” Yi Sang said as he lifted the fore wings. Both the fore and hind wings had been pierced through, the ends were completely torn to shreds, and the tears extended to the center of his wings. He had performed wing transplants on butterflies, but the damage was far too extensive. “A clean break at the top joint would be ideal, as well as cleaning the excision zones, but I am concerned about the pain.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it, I’ve removed parts on my own more times than I can count,” Gregor said, a light laugh in his voice.
“You shouldn’t do that. It’s dangerous, especially if the pieces you remove are important organs, you could cause a fracture or breakandthewoundgrowsinfestedwithrotanddecayandtheworldcontinuesonwithoutyouandiwoulddislikethelossofanothercompanionand-“
He was cut off by a calloused palm touching his hand.
“Yi Sang bud, it’s alright. It really doesn’t hurt, and I just need to be able to work.”
He guided Yi Sang’s hands to the upper joints of his wings.
“Please, just do it quickly.”
Yi Sang’s cold fingertips brushed against the hardened knobs from which his wings grew. They were close to the shoulder blade, he noted. He would have to take care not to remove bits of muscle and flesh. In a quick motion, he snapped the wings off, leaving slight bumps where the remains of the joints remained embedded in the skin. Not even a drop of blood spilled on the bedding.
To Gregor’s credit, he didn’t even wince. There was just the sensation of pulling and the loss of a weight against his back.
“Bite down,” a soft thing was placed in his hand.
He put it between his teeth in time for the sudden shock of pain as Yi Sang rinsed out the open wounds. He still did not scream. That had been trained out of him by his mother a long time ago.
Then came a soft touch, a sensation foreign to him. Yi Sang continued speaking as he wrapped the bandages tightly around his wounds.
“Keep them wrapped in cloth or gauze. Change them once a day or whenever they get dirty. And please, do not hurt yourself in this manner. No one on this bus cares about the shards of mirrors entrapped in mind, body, nor spirit, and all of us would regret losing a valued companion.”
“Ah, the manager bud would just bring me back. Care for a ciggie?”
He had taken a pack out from his pocket and was doing his best to light it with one hand.
“I stopped smoking after the League scattered. And at any rate, we should all endeavor to put the manager through as little pain as possible, a process I myself will try to reflect upon.”
Gregor, at last managing to light his cigarette, took a long drag and exhaled, the smoke pouring from his lips.
“Well, thank you for your help. Sorry to put you through this.”
He recomposed himself and made to leave.
“If I may ask,” Yi Sang asked, just as Gregor reached the door, “why no other? Faust is far more knowledgeable than I and Ryoshu is sharper with the blade.”
Gregor turned back to face Yi Sang, who was still sitting on his futon.
“Well, I suppose you could say that I heard you were talented. And I suppose I didn’t want to see someone too clinical,” he sighed before leaving the room. “I’ll see you around Yi Sang bud. I owe you one.”
He closed the door, leaving Yi Sang alone once more, in his white room with its four walls, but this time, there was a door he could leave at anytime to join the others. His friends. His heart fluttered at the thought, as though they had sprouted wings of their own. He dully laughed at the thought.