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heartshapedbubble · 1 year

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HIIII guess who finally finished the fic they've been putting off for literal months 😇😇😇😇 um anyways this is for the lovely anon who wanted a sequel to the "the person i once knew" oneshot mwah ily you know who you are!!!

anyways after this i have some orphy content for a very sweet commissioner and then i'll do the rest of the asks!! 💓

the person i once knew, part 2🦎

i gave up on the concept of proofreading whats that????, slightish cw for blood and some veeery light stuff, my god the writing sucks, gender neutral reader as usual, sorry for the wait anon, i lvoe lchino druiuse send message

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"Please...let me die a painless death."

That sentence gradually lost meaning with all the times it crossed your mind, gripping the reins of your psyche and making you flinch out of nowhere. The way it echoed in your head kept you awake for hundreds of nights: it was very obviously your voice, yet so unreachable, so distant, as if it crawled out from the deepest parts of your consciousness and made its way to your throat. But at the same time, it gradually unlocked a new emotion: fear. Death was basically gnawing at your ankles, and somehow, you're still alive, with both your feet on the ground and your head up. And the scariest thing was that all your memories of the day were a blurry mess, each of them overlapping, disconnecting and constantly shifting, leaving holes in your mind. You could have escaped death by pure luck, and you would never fully know.

Trying to reminisce of the day it happened was like playing a scratched record. Sometimes you saw vivid pictures, sometimes everything was pitch black, and sometimes it was just that gut-twisting feeling of anxiety and pressure. Only a few pictures materialized in your mind, awakening various sensations and making the hairs on your arms stand up straight. The scorching feeling of the unsharpened, rusty knife in your stomach. Hearing the unbearable screams, whimpers, and sighs of people that were surrounding you. The doctor's sickly pale face and veiny, thin hands illuminated by the unbearably bright yet depressing hospital light. Feeling your own sweat turn ice cold in a flash. It would be so easy to align the pieces of your memory if it wasn't for the constant shuffling, and, of course, your unavoidable feeling that there was a key puzzle piece missing, the one thing that would make everything click in place.

And of course, there was him. How could you even forget that?

Through all of your nightmares and dreams, even when you jolted and suddenly woke up panting and covered in cold sweat, the first thing that flashed in front of your eyes was him. A man so familliar which you simply couldn't name, the first letter always lying on the top of your tongue and never going further than that. Whenever you curled up under your bedsheets, you could smell the sweet fragrance of his hair, and often the warmth of his fingertips that gently traced along the soft lines of your body. And during hot summer nights, you felt the weight of his head on your chest as you got lulled to sleep by the soothing scent of lavender coming from your bedside table. It was kind of embarrassing, how easily you let yourself fall into a stranger's embrace and rest your cheek against his soft skin, woven out of threads of your memory. Perhaps you yearned for more than the pads of his fingers - you often found yourself dreaming of the feeling of his lips melding with yours, a lone string of saliva being the only thing separating them, and his warm breath grazing your ski-

"I apologize for interrupting your daydreaming, dear, but could I get my paycheck? I finished checking and dressing your wound some time ago."

You flinched, and the bright light from the ceiling blinded you again - you were so absorbed in your fantasy that you forgot you were looking at it in the first place. Disoriented, you looked around in panic, only to be met with the doctor's droopy eyes tiredly glaring back at you.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am, I- I really zoned out, I-" You were a stuttering mess, your cheeks heating up over the mere thought of the doctor watching you drift away. "No worries, sweetheart, I've seen worse.", the doctor replied, taking off the rubber gloves off of her hands. Unintentionally, you found yourself inspecting her features. She seemed disheveled, but still elegant - her sickly pale skin was decorated with various moles, and a lone pearl earring hung from her ear, the milky shine standing out from the plain working dress she wore. "Also, feel free to call me Emily. We'll be hanging out for quite some time until your wound fully heals, so why not be on friendly terms?" She smiled back at you. Her smile didn't last long, but it seemed as if she fought through her sleepiness and stress just to make your face light up for a moment. You couldn't stop yourself from grinning back at her, I mean, it's just human nature, isn't it? You thought to yourself.

Emily was a doctor assigned to help you out after your injury, one of the people you first saw after waking up from the wound-induced coma. Even though she was presumably overworked and not incredibly talkative, you could notice her slowly warming up to you with each visit, treating you with soft smiles every time she put on fresh bandages on your wound and stitched any stray cut that wasn't caught by the fabric wrapped around your waist. It was fascinating, watching her hand work - calculated, precise and fast like a needle on a sewing machine.

"Thanks for helping me out again, ma- I mean, Emily", you mumbled after clumsily wiggling out of your bed. "No worries, darling. Just remember to clean the wound every day, and avoid bending yourself over and doing physical work." She replied, draping her cloak around her shoulders.

You reached into the cupboard in your room, and tucked a thin stack of cash into the small pocket of her cloak. "Here. I gave you extra this time. Thanks again, you have no idea how much I value your help." You said and smiled again. Emily's eyebrows drooped. "Are you sure? That's way more than I need..." she worriedly whispered as you led her to the doorstep. "Don't worry about it!" you whispered back. She sighed. "Then I have no other option other than thank you for your generosity." You were treated by one of her gentle smiles yet again, dimples gracing both of her cheeks. "Well, I have to go now. I'll come over in a week or two. Just remember to take your painkillers if the abdominal pain becomes unbearable - such periods of pain are normal as the wound is still healing. Oh- I'm pretty sure they already arrived, yes?" She pointed her foot at the small bundle of cardboard packages and letters by your doorstep. "Anyways, take care. And remember-"

"I know - no overworking!"

A smile graced her face once again before she turned her back towards you and disappeared in the chilly autumn fog.

You sighed as you crouched to pick up today's mail. It was nothing special - your brown box of painkillers, a letter regarding rent, and an...

"... Invitation?" Your teeth stabbed into your bottom lip. It was, undoubtedly, an invitation - the yellowish envelope stood out from the pile, a weird symbol stamped onto the wax covering the opening. Your finger carefully traced the seal, and you didn't know if it was just your imagination, but you swore it was still heated, even though it was solid. Your gaze bounced onto the edges of the envelope, slightly scorched and crumbling with every touch.

You held the envelope in front of yourself - to open it, or not to open it? Your first instict was tearing it apart, but the longer you inspected the envelope, the more anxious you felt. Who could possibly be the mysterious sender behind it? There wasn't any information about the sender anywhere other than the enigmatic wax seal.

Letter opener in one hand, the edge of the letter in other, you sliced through the wax and the tightly pressed paper. You reached into the envelope, pulling out a small, crumbled piece of paper. It seemed like it was ripped straight out of a notebook, and through the blotchy handwriting, you made out the letters - it was an address. This has to be some sort of a scam. First, vague information, then, this messy writing, then... you muttered to yourself, about to shove the paper back into the envelope. Then you felt something thicker your fingers, bulging from under the textured pergament.

"There's more...?"

You pulled out a piece of laminated, silky smooth paper. Squinting, you deciphered the letters hidden behind the blotches of ink:

____ and Luchino Diruse.

You flipped the paper.

There was a picture of two people gently holding each other in an embrace, their fingers intertwined. One of them being you, and the other....

You'd recognize that face anywhere.

It was him.

Your stupidity and impulsiveness was amusing. What made everything funnier was the fact that you repeated that sentence in your mind as you got off the train, already neck deep in the problem. Fascinating about a stranger was already hilarious, but actually chasing them, going head first without any second thought just to see him in the flesh? It was a fucking comedy.

In front of you was an old yet enormous manor, rotting and ruined by the passing of time. The windows were sealed shut with planks, and the garden in the front of it probably wasn't touched up in decades. It truly seemed like a cruel prank, if it wasn't for that picture left at the bottom of the envelope, which was now resting in the inner pocket of your coat. It was the only proof you had, the only thing confirming that the man called "Luchino" wasn't just a marionette sculpted by your unconscious mind. How hilarious.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself pushing the (unlocked... for some reason) creaky door open and letting yourself get lost in the darkness of the main hall. It would be pitch black if it wasn't for the few lanterns hanging on the ceiling, spider webs wrapping around the textured glass. Disoriented, you looked around for any possible sign of other people living here, literally anything to prove that you came to the right place.

A ray of light appeared in the corner of your eye - it came from a half-opened door. You slowly approached it, in fear of making the floorboards creak. It's a stranger's house, after all, and you assumed them realizing they have unexpected guests would make them angry.

Yet, your ear was now peering into the illuminated room, curiosity eating you from the inside. You could make out the people speaking just by the tone of their voice - two women, a calm, collected woman and an energetic, younger woman with a soft french accent, seemingly deep into an argument. You could hear their voices jump up a few octaves with every sentence, them tripping on words as they tried to reason with each other. A step further wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Now your whole head was stuck between the wooden planks, but the only things you were able to see were the peeled wallpaper and the edge of a huge, almost royal dining table - this manor was the property of some aristocrat, no doubt about that. Your fingers were aggressively gripping the doorknob, almost desperately. If you could only muster up the courage to open it...

"I wouldn't advise going any further. Mostly because... well, let's just say that miss Bourbon is not the best if we're talking self-control."

The sudden deep, raspy voice behind you made you flinch and turn around in panic. A blindfolded man stood in front of you - his body was wrapped in long, dark blue cloths, and a leather satchel hung from his waist. On his shoulder was a big, brown owl, arching its fluffy chest towards you and curiously tilting its head, as if it wants to know who you are.

"Don't let yourself get intimidated by Brooke - she's just fascinated by newcomers." he said as his gloved hand ruffled the owl's feathers. "The name's Eli Clark, but call me Eli for short. And yours?" The same gloved hand was now reached out towards you, awaiting a handshake.

"My- ah- um...the name is ____. My pleasure, Eli." you nervously mumbled as you grabbed his hand and awkwardly shook it.

"____... What a pretty name. You're new here, right?" The brunette man suddenly smiled. "I've been expecting you."

"Oh, really? So you must be the owner of the manor then! You sent me the invitation too, right?"

Eli rubbed his chin.

"What invitation..?"

You reached into your pocket, showing him the crumpled, yellow envelope. "This one. I was hoping you were the person that could help me out with this personal mission of mine..."

He exhaled, his nose scrunching from under the blindfold. "I'm really sorry, but I think you've been misinformed. I'm not the owner of manor, the same goes for the other two current residents."

"So you must be a relative of the owner, yes?"

"No... In fact, no one here knew others beforehand. Nor do we know the owner, or who invited us - although my "invitation" was more of a... gut instinct, if you will." He let out a bleak, emotionless chuckle. "But all I can say is that you're not alone in this. Miss Bourbon and miss Gilman were both invited by the same stranger, as far as I know."

Your heart sank. It can't possibly be a dead end! There has to be something more...

"You mean this "owner" person invited a bunch of random people here? That they probably don't know, either?"

"Well... yes."

"But why?"

He clicked his tongue. "God knows why. I have my own reasons, and the ladies have them too. All I know is that all of them are quite personal."

You couldn't wait any longer. Just a clue, just a tiny little nag in the right direction - it was all you asked for. "Then, Eli, do you perhaps recognize this man?", you said as you yanked the picture out of your pocket. A sharp line dragged itself across its surface, wearing out the paper after the numerous times you folded it and opened it yet again, just to embed his face in your memory a little bit better.

Eli might have been blindfolded, but you could sense his eyes widening in shock, baffled at the sight of the picture you handed him. Instead, his owl leaned forward, eyes like big, glass marbles staring back at the withering face on the photograph.

"Do you know this man, ___?"

"Yes. I... well, I'm looking for him. It was actually the reason I came here - this photograph right here was in the invitation."

The brunette man pressed his lips together, thinking of how to reply to you.

"That... No. I've never seen him. I'm sorry."

"Then should we ask the other two residents?" your gaze flew onto the half-opened door. "Maybe they know somet-"

"They don't. Trust me, they're not from here. Miss Gilman is quite isolated from others and the modern way of living in general, and Miss Bourbon arrived 4 days ago from a whole other continent. He... ugh, actually, nevermind." his voice was nervous and twitchy, almost like he was shivering in the cold.

Was he lying? You bit your lip while thinking. Even if he was telling the truth, you could notice the impact that the picture had on him. It was just two lovers, arms wrapped around each other, pigment of their faces crumbling after being worn out by time, yet they seemed to throw him right into a state of panic. Avoidant, out of breath - what could had possibly been on his mind that caused such a reaction?

"Are you sure, Eli? You're sounding kind of unreasonable right now." your eyebrows furrowed as you spared a sharp glare at the panicking man.

"No! I'm just saying how it really is! It-"

A brown bush of hair suddenly popped up from the half open door, illuminated by the remaining traces of the warm, faint light from the dining room. "Can you two hurry up with introductions? Dinner's getting cold!"

Dinner went by faster than you thought.

As you followed Eli into the dining room, you were met with two women seated at the long table, the same ones that you overheard bickering.

"Yet another newcomer?" the calm, elegant lady spoke, her dark eyes squinting to get a better look at you. Her head and body were covered with a figureless purple garment, mystical symbols curved on the edges of the long, flabby sleeves and the hood. She suddenly stood up, her bony hand reaching towards you. "Fiona Gilman. Pleasure to meet you." you slowly shook her hand. "I bet all that traveling has worn you out, yes?"

"Oh, not at all, miss Fiona!" Even though she seemed like a friendly lady, you felt sort of intimidated by her elegant posture and mysterious, dazed eyes that were probably drifting off far away from the real word, losing themselves in some other dimension. As if she kept a dark secret that an ordinary human couldn't even comprehend. With her witchy appearance and tall, gloomy figure, she seemed out of this world, like a prophet of some apocalyptical, elven land.

"Doesn't matter, sugar, you're gonna eat some delicious soup and head back to bed. You seem quite sickly, too, did you get enough sleep? You should get two bowls today, warm homemade soup is the best cure for all illnesses..." the brown-haired lady spoke, pinching your cheeks while inspecting your face. Her french accent was still audible, her r's perching up and her u's cutely drooping a pitch lower every time she spoke. "Ah! I forgot to introduce myself. Call me Demi. None of that miss and mister bullshit. We're gonna be together for a few days anyway, so we should spend them in good spirits, no?" she said as she winked at you.

Even though it was only the four of you sitting at the huge table, the initial silence was instead filled with lively chatting, four different voices intertwining and interrupting each other. You got to know every single one of your new roommates, even some of their own funny quirks. Your mind drifted off of Luchino, completely forgetting about him until the moment you curled up in your new bed.

As you changed from your clothes into your pyjamas, the picture dropped down to the floor next to the bed. "Oh, I completely forgot about you." you whispered as a wave of guilt struck you right as you picked it up. Was this part of the owner's plan? To give you so many clues and hints to solve the puzzle that troubled you for weeks, and then have you give them up for a glass of wine and a chat with complete strangers? You weren't sleepy anymore. You tucked the picture into your fist, and decided to go get a glass of water, maybe even meet Demi and Fiona and ask them about Luchino. Eli's reply still didn't satisfy you, and seemed to actually create more questions instead of giving you a direct answer.

The creaking of the old staircase filled your ears as you made your way down to the kitchen, each stair rhytmically answering you with a high pitched squeak with every step you took. You looked at the open window in the hall - the grayish full moon gleamed in the beautiful night, without a single cloud in sight to hide its beauty. Once you got to the kitchen, you noticed the warm light peeking from under the door. Did someone forget to turn it off? Probably left it on on accident, you thought to yourself as you headed towards the door.

The second you put your hand on the doorknob, you halted. A person was on the other side. Or were there two? It could very well be Eli - he mentioned he struggled with his sleeping schedule. Or maybe Demi? She drank a lot throughout the dinner. It could also be Fiona, considering her cultish interests and all the full moon rituals usually tied to such beliefs. To spy or not to spy? Your hands trembled out of nervousness. It would be a shitty thing to do, especially since you just left your first impression on them, but you were going to interrupt them either way by entering, weren't you? Eye peeking through the keyhole, you squatted down and pressed your head onto the rotting door, hoping to draw out anything that others decided to gossip about.

Through the miniscule keyhole, you made out Eli's legs, crossed while he was sitting, and Demi's green skirt, waving around her legs as she nervously walked back and forth.

"Why did you decide to lie to them?" suddenly you heard Demi hiss, as if she had already suspected someone was spying on them.

"I had a reason, alright? Besides, we've only just met! To leave them hopeless and sad, just for them to realize they can't leave yet?" now you heard Eli cry, his usually stable, calm voice now on the verge of madness.

"You should had told them the truth! Imagine how they would feel as they looked for him, only to realize that all of their efforts were just a dead end. The harsh truth is always better than hopeful lies."

It can't be. What are the odds that they're talking about him?

"He's... alive. I know it. He must be somewhere out there." Eli's voice trembled again.

"Stop lying to yourself, Eli. He's dead. We all saw him lying on the ground, writhing in pain, unable to help him despite our attempts. We all saw the same sight." Demi suddenly sighed as she reached for a chair to sit down on. "Besides, you saw it in your visions, too. You saw those scales on his body piercing his skin as he bled out, you noticed only his face was blurred out out of the four of us, you saw them taking his place. Everything aligned perfectly."

"I don't want to believe the truth. I... want to change the future. I don't want to make the same mistake ever again." You heard Eli whimper, his hands reaching his face. "Tommorrow's the final game. I'm going to try my best to make things right. I don't want to lose ___ the way we lost Luchino."

Demi leaned over, her arms softly pulling Eli's shoulders into a hug.

It can't be true.

It possibly cannot be.

He cannot be dead.

But you heard them confirm - yet, at the same time, you didn't want to believe it.

Suddenly you weren't thirsty anymore. You headed back to your room, tears rolling down your cheeks.

God, if there was ever a moment where you simply needed to feel his presence near you, to just feel his breath on your neck and his arms around your waist, it was this one. Yet, it was so hard to imagine it again, knowing that he's probably a corpse somewhere out there.

It didn't matter. You already had a plan - tommorrow you'll find him, and bring him home - no matter if he's dead or alive.

You couldn't tell the time, nor did you know how long you've been walking. All you saw was Eli's blurry figure in front of you, leading you to the place where the "game" would commence. Tired and dazed, you tried your best to stay awake, struggling with each step into the mud. Your legs were feeling weak and numb, as if they could easily fall off your body if the wind was a bit stronger.

"How much longer, Eli? I simply cannot walk anymore!" Demi groaned from the back, struggling to balance herself in the moldable, soft dirt, to which Eli didn't reply.

He wasn't very talkative today - in fact, no one was. Fiona and Demi spared you a quick smile in the morning, but nothing more than that. It was a strange parade, the four of you heading to god-knows-where, gloomy and silent as if you're part of some odd, morbid carnival.

"We're here!" Eli suddenly yelled. Through the fog you made out water-soaked wooden planks and heated, warm antennas that were perched up above it, like stars in the cloudy night sky. The damp and overwhelming air now reached your nostrils - you recognized it, but from where exactly? The smell of the grass soaked by the rain haunted you from some other distant time, but you simply couldn't put your finger on it.

Eli now faced all three of you, nervously clenching his fist. "We're splitting up now. Just follow the lights and try to decode the machines that you'll find." He pointed at the antennas clouded by the fog. "I'm going this way, alone. Don't follow me! I'll be back at once, trust me!"

"But, Eli, you can't just-" Demi yelled, but Eli already ran into the fog, the gray veil blurring out his figure until he fully vanished.

Fiona sighed. "I guess we don't have any other option. Demi - you and I will head for those two machines on the west side. ___, could you take over this one?" She signaled at the machine positioned north, in the same direction where Eli went. You nodded. The way the game progressed made you more worried than it should.

Through the fog, you approached the clunky machine. It looked like a lion in a cage on display - it made beeping noises, it was shaking and the buttons seemed like they were pressing themselves - almost as if it was alive. Yet, as you felt the weight of the indented buttons go down with the press of your finger, your initial fear was fading. Sweat dripping down your forehead, you were arched over the typewriter-like box, wiping and rewriting lines and lines of crypted text. A few sudden, loud booms made you jump - Demi and Fiona probably finished decoding theirs. As you reached halfway, you suddenly heard a cry coming from up north.

Or was it an owl's howl?

Your legs were cemented in front of the machine. Just a few more lines of code and whatever those symbols were, and you could get out freely, reach Demi and Fiona and escape, but was there even enough time to borrow? A wave of guilt suddenly bit you from the inside of your stomach, but you simply couldn't waste another second.

Sweat froze on your bare skin, but you didn't care. You ran and ran as fast as you could, continuing even after tripping over sometimes. It was obvious this would go down badly from the start, but maybe this was destined to be. You couldn't change the future already engraved into the stars. Eli couldn't, either. But you wanted to do the impossible. As you moved through the fog, you realized you had nothing more to lose.

Panting and catching your breath, all you found was Eli's leather satchel lying in the grass, a few of Brooke's feathers loosely sticking onto its surface. Suddenly you found yourself tying it around your waist. There was no explanation you could make up on the spot, but it was a souvenir of sorts. It was a piece of him, in a way. Even if he wasn't physically here, you found comfort in the way his satchel pulled it's weight down your hip. It was a reminder that you're on a mission - to change what Eli couldn't, and to return what was lost.

"__!"

It was Demi's voice coming from behind you. She was out of breath, leaning on her knees for support.

"Demi! For god's sake, y- Do you know where Fiona and Eli are?" You rushed to help her recover her stamina.

"Was just about to ask you. Fiona disappeared right as she finished her cipher, and as for Eli... well, we're both looking for him right now, aren't we? Have you found any clues?" Her hand roamed her bucket, taking out a dusty glass bottle, filled to the brim with shiny red liquid. "Nope, except Eli's satchel." You tapped its damp, shiny surface lightly. "But other than that, there were no footprints, no signs of where he went."

Demi took a swig out of the bottle, then carelessly threw it back into the bucket. "Alright. Since both Eli and Fiona are gone, we have to devise a plan. Listen - I'm going to look for those two, maybe they got lost - and you'll be decoding that last cipher over there, okay? I can't focus on those puzzle-code-whatever thingies while I'm tipsy, but I sure can pack a punch if needed!" She grinned as she flexed her arm.

"Sounds good to me. Just take care, okay? And be careful!"

"No need to worry about me, sweetie. I'll be back before you even enter the last line of code!" She laughed, and her laugh echoed over and over as she melted into the fog again.

Well, shit. You were loomed over the damned machine again, the cipher still shaking and wriggling as if it's about to explode. Now as you thought about it, the game was about to end, and it was faster than you thought. It all depended on you and Demi - for her to find the remaining two, and for you to decipher that goddamned block of text and get you all out of here.

Click. Click.

First row done, five more remaining.

You felt the first droplet of sweat form on your forehead.

Click. Click.

Second row done, four more remaining.

Did the buttons suddenly stop cooperating? They felt heavier under your fingertips, some of them refusing to pop back after you pressed them.

Click. Click.

Third row done, three more remaining.

Was it this cold the entire time? The wind played with your hair as you continued typing.

Click. Click.

Fourth row done, two more remaining.

You thought of your teammates. Where could they be now? Demi promised to return before you finished the cipher, but there was nothing to hear except the swaying of leaves, nothing to see through the fog except the outlines of the wooden skeletons that could have been houses in some other life.

Click. Click.

Fifth row done, one more remaining.

Was that a hiss you just heard? Your mind is probably playing tricks with you, yet you still felt uneasy, your leg bouncing in case you need to un-freeze and get going.

Click. Click.

Gah, fuck.

Wrong code, back to row five.

You felt the hairs on your skin rise up as your already numb fingers ran over the keyboard. Must be cause of the cold.

Click. Click.

Sixth row done. Cipher machine finished.

The exit gates have been opened.

You jumped and ran along with the ear-piercing siren, not finding the courage to look back at what might had been hunting you the whole game.

Two eyes staring right back at you. The last thing you saw before you started to run. As you turned your back to them, you already felt them stripping off your clothes and tearing your flesh apart, toying with your mutilated body as they pleased. If I don't run as fast as possible, that might just be the best case scenario, you suddenly thought and picked up your pace.

You ran to the quickest shed you found and pressed yourself against the wet planks. It was the best shelter you could find at the moment, although it was also the most fragile one out there. One careless move and your cover will be blown completely. Your hand pressed itself on your mouth on its own - Is this really how it's going to end? Legs cemented into the ground, unable to make a move in fear you'll get caught? If your hands weren't already shaky, you'd pinch yourself in hope that it's was all just a bad dream.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look behind. Now with a wooden shield against your back, perhaps you could stare down the predator from the thin, empty holes between the planks. Slowly, you tilted your head, the wetness of the wood brushing against your cheek. You didn't dare to completely turn around - it was too risky.

As you held onto the wall, fingers pale out of sheer force with which you held onto it, your gaze quickly flashed between the wooden frame, into the grayish cloud of icy, damp air.

Fatal mistake.

It only took a moment of inattention - you felt the skin of your chest ripping and the warmth of your own blood flowing down your body. As you gasped in shock, your eyes fixed themselves onto what poked through your pathetic little shelter and, in the end, your ribs - an enormous, clawed hand, searching around for whatever it stabbed in the first place. It could probably grip your whole neck with ease and turn your spine into dust with a strong enough grip. With your legs feeling like rubber, you sloppily leaped towards a tied up stack of planks set against a barrel. Trying to find some unreal source of energy from your worn out body, only one solution popped up in your mind - you pulled the stack with all your momentary might.

It was dizzying. A chain reaction ensued in your abdomen, as if something stabbed through your belly button from the inside of your body. You grabbed your stomach in vain, the blood leaking from your ribs already staining the cloth that was wrapped around your waist. Not enough power remained in your arms to support your weight and you simply crashed into the dewy grass, exhausted from fighting back.

"Please! Let me die a painless death!" You screamed at whatever was now looming over you and breathing into your neck. The only remaining option was to beg the two blurred, hellish orange orbs looking at you for mercy.

A second passed. Then another.

Your heart was still beating. The creature's heavy breathing still filled up your ears, yet you didn't dare to face it again. It leaned forward, scraping your wrist with its claws - no, grabbing something from your sleeve? You slowly opened your eyes.

It gazed at the same picture you cherished and held close to your chest each night.

As the monster's eyes fixated themselves on the two blurry faces, you heard a low hiss slipping from it's jaw. You could recognize that husky voice from miles and miles afar.

"____?"

"...Luchino?"

You couldn't believe your eyes. Yet, as you inspected the lizard-man looming over your body, you realized it really was him - the raggedy brownish-red hair rolling down the sides of his neck, the collared shirt slightly ripped at the seams - but god, what has he become? The soft surface of his big, veiny hands was now replaced by menacing claws that could rip you apart if he got careless enough.

"____! So it really is you I'm seeing! I'm so glad!" Luchino sighed in relief as he got on his knees in front of you. "I'm so sorry that you have to see me like this..."

"Luchino.. is this really you? What happened?" You murmured, reaching for his scaled face. The tension in your body disappeared the second you heard his voice seep from his mouth - he seemed less menacing, even cute in a way.

"Huh? You don't remember?" He leaned his face into your palm. It almost felt natural, the way your hand slowly cupped his cheek.

"No...I just... I don't remember what happened very well that night you disappeared. Are you hurt?" You whispered.

He sighed. "...It's a long story, darling. A story for another time. Don't worry about me - are you hurt?" His claws stroked the thick bandages that were tightly wrapped around your waist, now soaked with blood. "Ah, these wounds... I'm so sorry. It's all my fault." He looked away in shame. "I lost control of myself after that - well, transformation - thing and just... let myself get controlled by my animalistic instincts." As he got lower and lower, he slowly laid his head on your chest. "I never wanted to hurt you. I'll never forgive myself for making you bleed."

"Luchino..." you mumbled out as your arms wrapped around his neck. "Please. It's fine, trust me, I'm doing better now..."

"It's not fine." He suddenly yelped, making you jolt. "I can't excuse doing such an awful thing. Especially since it was you I hurt." His fingers intertwined with yours. "I'll get us out of here, tesoro. I'll make sure that no one - including me - lays another finger on you."

He picked up your fragile body from the grass that you laid in. "One day, angel, I'll find a way to return back to normal - and I'll be the man you once knew again."

You clenched the fabric rippling over his chest. "You were always the same man, Luchi. No scales or fangs will change the way you love, the way you tighten your grip whenever you hold me in your arms and the way you whisper sweet nothings into my ear."

He chuckled and softly pressed his mouth onto your forehead. He still kissed you with the same warmth he once did, the heat lingering as he moved his head away.

"I love you, vita mia."

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