Chapter Text
The world was bright, bright, brightbrightbright, and it stung his eyes as he looked upwards. Everything was wrong – he was drowning in air, falling from the highest mountain, lying on a soft, warm bed, screaming his lungs out with no sound at all. It all ached and burned and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t breathe lest he not be able to get any air into his lungs ever again, but air was the only substance around him and he was being ripped apart and his chest…
Vivisected… that must be what it was…
It was a strange experience, being in two places at once, yet not anywhere at all. He knew, logically, that he wasn’t dying, he was being pushed back, but that didn’t stop his body, his very soul, from screaming in protest. He remembered this feeling; it was how he felt seconds before he faded from consciousness, just before life ceased making sense.
Life would never make sense again. Not when he knew what was out there. Not when he knew how a warrior felt. Not when he’d tasted freedom and felt love. He’d go back to being the perfect son; go back to playing a game of pretend for the rest of his life; go back to smiling for cameras and franticly trying to please his father. He’d go back to all that but life would never be the same. His fingers would itch for a weapon that was no longer there. His body would feel incomplete and broken. He’d never wish to be alone, and yet be isolated from the world, because the world was a dangerous place, says his father, but he doesn’t think his father knows danger like he does.
He’d had a taste of adventure. It was sickly sweet – something so good is was just plain awful – but he’d gotten used to, and now craved, it and its bitter aftertaste.
Ash, ash, ash…
The pain of The Exchange was sudden, yet not unexpected. He didn’t quite understand how it worked – he’d never bothered to ask, as being pushed back this soon had been a rude surprise. His world had shattered as he had felt the tugging. He could only guess she felt it also, because her smile – that wonderful, beautiful smile, had fallen off her face. She’d gripped his hand with strength he’d almost been convinced could keep them together, but she’d started to drip through his fingers and fade away. Home wasn’t this house he was being forced back into, home wasn’t the house he’d lived in for several years now, she was home, and he was being pulled away from her.
His body felt odd. His feet felt strange, and his lower back bare, and his ears were wrong. He was cold all over – artic water must have replaced his blood – but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was comforting, almost, as if he felt cold, he must still be alive. Feeling something, anything was a sign of life, even if it was artic water, and his brain knew this well. His eyes fluttered closed as they did open. He watched as the last of her face melted from view and faded away and as blue skies were lost behind dropping lids, while also feeling his eyes open to brightbrightbright light, white and unnatural, electric, and…
Everything stopped. Two pictures fizzled into just the one. He blinked as the weight on his chest faded away and he gasped for breath. He could feel the steady risefallrisefall of his chest. His back was crushed onto a mattress – comfortable, expensive – and his limbs were tangled in sheets. The barely there breeze of an open window and oh it was Spring. He felt heavy and tired but his eyes stayed open and his fingers twitched.
And Adrien woke up.