#death row undertow chapter six

[merakiui]

[vi.] ⁿᵒᵗ qᵘⁱᵗᵉ ⁿᵉʷˡʸʷᵉᵈˢ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, captivity, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, drugging, mentions of death/murder, dissection, gore chapter v│chapter vi (you are here)│chapter vii

It could have been you. You should be more conscious of your surroundings. Those were scolding words from Azul—words that you had deemed useless and carelessly shrugged off. He’s been known to fret over you and your, according to him, problematic lifestyle. In your defense, you’ve gotten better over the course of time. The you from two years ago is nothing but a phantom now—a lonesome memory you’ve shoved to the dark recesses of your brain—and if she could see you now she’d be shocked at your progress. 

And at the fact that you’re currently being held captive in a killer’s house. That’s not the trajectory either of you had expected your life would follow. You suppose that’s why intertwined fates are often the mother of unforeseen situations. You can step around them and take as many precautions as you’d like, but you can’t truly avoid them. Not when they’ve already wound around your destiny, so tight they’ve made a lasting imprint.

Azul was right, in an unsettling, psychic way. Now, as you inspect the ring on your finger, you realize his offer wasn’t terrible. His home is all crystal and dark blue tones, furnished with delicate fish tanks, a grand piano, a spiraling staircase, and so much opulence that it’s nearly palatial in design. It provides you with a view of the stunning cityscape, all reinforced glass and metal frameworks, brightening the night sky like individual holes poked in the foil lid on a jar. But as ideal as it looks, the isolation would soon creep through the longer you stay in his high-rise penthouse, sectioned off from the world below in a private slice of luxury. 

You’d take permanent residence in your Sea Trench over his penthouse any day. At the very least, your mediocre apartment feels like a home. A sad husk of one, sure, but it’s home nonetheless. Your entire life is packed into that space. From the coffee maker that’s had better mornings to the posters and trinkets strewn about, your apartment is layered in bits and pieces of your personality. It’s a place you fit into with much comfort. With Azul you don’t truly belong. You just exist alongside him, often shadowed by his radiance, like gloom cast by a tantalizing flame, flickering between care and criticism. 

But it doesn’t have Azul, you think, sinking into the water until it’s up to your chin. It feels weird to admit, but I kind of miss him. He’s fun to be around, and he always knows what to say. Even his fake proposal was good. You drag your hand over your face, groaning weakly as the daydreams begin to snuff logic. I wonder if anything would change if we were actually married. Maybe it would feel less like lust and more like love. Or maybe it would be easier to pretend we’re married. Acting like newlyweds would be fun. We’re together, but we’re not quite there yet. Not quite newlyweds…or something like that.

A knock at the door almost drives the soul from your body and you sit up with a sharp intake of air. The fluffy images disperse like dandelion tufts in the wind, mere specks of faux cumulus against the vast sky that is your mind. Now you’re brought back to reality, the tranquility of an empty, silent bathroom shattered by the arrival of a calamitous monster. 

“I’ve brought your clothes and a towel,” Jade says, his voice muffled through the door. “May I come in? I’d like to bandage your ankle after you’ve changed.”

You’d prefer it if he stayed outside, as far from you as possible, but you can’t let your ankle get any more grotesque or else it’ll cause future inconveniences for you. 

“Fine. But don’t look!”

“There’s no need to be shy. It’s just skin.”

“I'm not shy, you freak!” You hold your tongue and huff. “Just keep your creepy eyes off of me.”

The door opens and Jade steps in, bringing with him your dress, a towel, and the scent of something scrumptious. You can’t tell if it’s earthy or savory—or both—but it has your stomach growling irritably. He smiles as he sets both items down on an empty towel rack before opening a cabinet and withdrawing a first aid kit.

“My, how vicious. And I thought my eyes were perfectly pleasant.” He hums as he bends down to gather the blanket and pillow you’d previously slept with, gracefully tossing both through the doorway and into the bedroom. “I suppose I’m just not your type.”

“My type isn’t murderous, backstabbing, lying criminals,” you seethe through grit teeth.

“That’s most unfortunate.”

Scowling, you snatch the towel he offers. His face is angled away from you, and you get a view of his striking side profile while you dry your upper body. He’d make for a good cover model if he wasn’t so eerie. Knowing the true shades of Jade frames him in a gruesome portrait​​—one that oozes coppery gore and shields well-aligned skeletons behind a disarming picture. It’s a shame, considering how desirable his build is. With his height, broad shoulders, muscles in the right places, and a handsome face, he could craft quite the career for himself. Any business-oriented photographer would be a fool to ignore his potential. 

But he’d look even better behind bars in a striped jumpsuit.

Your gaze slides from him to the drain in the tub, and you give it a tug until it pops free. Water is sucked into the waiting abyss in a swirling vortex, traveling down, down, down into the darkness. You wish you could drain alongside it.

“Why humans?” 

Jade straightens at that. Not in surprise, you realize. He’s correcting his posture, standing rigidly upright while he rifles through the first aid kit. 

“The same reason everyone enjoys animal meat,” he answers with a half-shrug.

“It can’t be that good. I mean…” You try to picture a world in which human meat is readily harvested, packaged, and sold at butcher shops and supermarkets. The imagery only succeeds in souring your appetite. “It’s human meat, Jade.”

“Would you have preferred I make a meal out of Azul instead?”

“What difference would that make?”

And yet the snappy disinterest in your tone doesn’t match your thoughts. Don’t you dare touch him. Your fingers curl into the towel, nearly strangling it, as your face darkens in displeasure. Thinking about that possibility, no matter how teasing it may be, sparks an unfamiliar emotion in you. Leave him out of this.

“So ignorance really is bliss,” he muses, humor spotting his tone. 

He’s joking, you think, incredulous, as your grip on the towel loosens. Hours ago he was going to kill me and now he’s joking.

Casting your vexation aside, you wrap the towel around yourself once the bath is fully drained and, with one hand grasping it tightly to prevent it from falling, you place the other upon the wall to steady yourself before slowly standing. Your foot slips with an ear-grating squeak and you yelp as you tumble onto your back, your tailbone hitting the bottom of the tub. Pain bolts through your hips and you release a disgruntled hiss. 

I need to be more careful. Take it slowly.

“I could help you. Alas, a certain someone has forbidden me from touching her.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Very well.” He brings his fist to his mouth as he witnesses you stumble like a newborn fawn on shaky legs, hiding a growing smirk. “For someone who was so terrified earlier, you seem comfortable.” 

“What part of me looks comfortable?” you spit, glowering.

“Your sarcasm suggests you’re at ease to bicker.”

I hate you so much, Jade Leech.

You give up on standing with an aggravated sigh and scramble awkwardly over the lip of the bathtub, falling to the tiled floor with a wet smack. The chain rattles like a death knell. He hands your clothes off next and you stare at the folded dress, its fabric smelling pleasantly of lavender. You glance at Jade with a frown, recalling that he had taken it off while you were in the throes of unconsciousness. An unsettled shiver crawls through you as you imagine cold fingers tracing over your skin, over every curvature, feeling and examining. And then there was the chilly press of a marker against your abdomen, circling your biceps, inking words into your flesh as if every inch of you is swine not yet butchered. 

Not all of the marks could be washed away, and so you’re left with the faint reminder that they exist—that they were placed there with a very macabre intent. 

“Turn around so I can get dressed.” 

Jade complies, pivoting on his heel. He even raises his hands to his face. With his back turned to you, you entertain all sorts of revenge while you slip your dress on, the material sticking to your body like a barnacle on a whale’s back. It had been nice to wear when you were with Azul, but now it’s just burdening you with discomfort. Even the chips in your golden nails remind you that every inch of finery you’ve wrapped yourself in is manufactured and just as easily tarnished. As you struggle to zip the back, you wonder if you’d even have a chance to exact revenge. He’s strong, but surely even he has his weaknesses. What those could be, you haven’t the faintest clue. 

You slide your underwear on next and by the time you’re finally clothed you throw your head back against the tub and exhale slowly. New aches are just beginning to sprout when you flex your fingers and curl your toes. Even your sprained ankle has its own unruly heartbeat. 

“I’m done.” 

He turns and picks up the compression wrap from where it rests on the sink. Indicating it with a shake, he asks, “May I?”

Your stiff nod has him lowering to his knees, where he takes your leg in large, warm hands and lifts it to meet the unrolled bandage. You count the number of times he wraps it, starting at the ball of your foot, circling around the arch of your sole, crossing over the top of your foot and toes, until he reaches your ankle. The taut bandage is oddly familiar around your leg, its coarse texture a reminder of doctors in white coats, dull, monochromatic rooms, and a hulking observation tank. With scrutinizing, mismatched hues, he observes his handiwork after he’s finished and a content hum rumbles low in his throat. 

“Thanks.” You intend to pull your leg back, but he keeps hold of it, his fingers digging into your skin. Blunt nails form unsightly crescents in your leg, each one deliberately bruising. “Thank you,” you repeat forcefully, but it has no effect on him. 

Jade continues to press, press, press into your leg, so hard that you’re certain he’ll tear into your skin and you’ll see blood puddle between his fingers. His lips are pursed in a thin line, his brows just slightly furrowed, and he looks as if he’s seen legs for the first time. And then his mouth parts, revealing dreadfully sharp points, and he’s leaning in, closer and closer. Panic seizes control of your body and you kick at him on instinct. Your unwrapped foot collides with his stomach, and he’s shaken from his daze, slouching back against the toilet with an odd, indecipherable expression. Your breaths come out in trembling huffs and the two of you hold eye contact for a taut minute. Questions smolder in your horrified stare while he remains completely unfazed. 

He was about to…

“Forgive me. I’ve overstepped my boundaries.” He stands briskly, pats his front down as if it’s been tainted by dust, sweeps that black streak of hair behind his ear, and begins to pack the first aid kit.

“You were going to bite me just now!” You hunch into a smaller version of yourself, teetering on the verge of hyperventilation. “You said you wouldn’t touch—you promised that… You said—”

“It won’t happen again.”

Like hell it won’t! The whole reason I’m here is because you’re hungry! Your hands curl into fists just as horror shivers through you. He looked so emotionless. It’s terrifying. I feel like he was looking at me like I’m not quite human. Like I’m less than a human and more like…

“I’ll handle my own wounds from now on,” you snap. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” 

“Don’t give me permission then.” 

“Here’s a suggestion: Don’t let your cravings control you! I’m not on your sick menu for the next nine months, got that?” 

“And here I was getting ready to retrieve some ice for your poor ankle…” Jade sighs mournfully as he sets the first aid kit onto its respective shelf. “I’ve also prepared a meal for you, but it seems you have more than enough energy.”

“I don’t want your cannibal food.”

His laughter is about as melodious as shattered glass. “Unfortunately, I’m not like Azul. I won’t leave your favorite at the door when you’re being a picky brat, so I’m afraid you’ll have to trust what I’ve made if you don’t want to go hungry.”

“I’d rather starve.” 

“Your parasite might say otherwise.” 

“Then we’ll starve together. I’m not eating human meat.”

“No one said you had to. Besides, do you really think I’d waste precious ingredients on someone whose palate is limited to her moral compass?”

The shadow Jade casts swallows you whole when he looms over you, and there’s a calculation shrouded in his heterochromatic gaze. You wonder what enigma he’s working out as he observes you, pupils tracking your creased brow and sliding down to your neck. Maybe he’s looking at you as if you’re a dissection specimen again, considering the various ways in which he can effectively slice you. If your lie hadn’t worked, where would he have started? Would it have been like the fetal pigs in biology, marking their stomachs and cutting along the lines before peeling back each skin flap to reveal organ structures? Your professor had once said that a pig’s internal layout closely mirrors that of a human’s, hence why it’s much easier to identify a pig’s innards than it is a frog’s. 

Perhaps he would have looked at you the same way biologists look at fetal pigs: with detached, analytical indifference. 

The impatient gurgle from your stomach breaks Jade’s trance and scatters your ruminations.

“What was that about starving?”

Exhaling noisily, you fix your eyes on the floor to avoid his growing smirk and mutter, “Fine. I’ll eat.” 

Content with your acquiescence, he strides out the door. You watch him as he walks through the bedroom and out another door into, what you assume, is the hallway. And then you hear faint footsteps, each more muffled than the last. You’re certain you count a total of nine footsteps with a silent delay after the third step. 

Assuming the staircase is broken into two parts—a small one consisting of three or so stairs, a landing, and another staircase with five or so stairs—I’m on the second floor. Your fingernail scratches uselessly at the floor tiles. Two floors… I wonder why he’s keeping me up here. Wouldn’t you want to keep a captive somewhere else? Like in a basement or a soundproofed room? 

The ring’s gemstone winks at you under the light and you sigh. Azul would have a solution for this, wouldn’t he? He’d probably say something like, “I told you so. This is exactly why you should’ve listened to me. My security system is top-notch and flawless and blah, blah, blah. I’m rich. Move in with me.” No, stay focused. What would Azul do in this situation? We’ve seen horror movies before and we’ve always noted that the brainless ones die first. But how do you outsmart a killer? More importantly, how can I beat Jade? I’m shackled to his wall, my ankle’s hurt, and I’m not strong enough to fight right now. 

If you want to con a conman, you’ll have to think like one, a hushed voice interjects.

Right… Since he thinks I’m pregnant, I’ll have to act pregnant. It’s not going to be a convincing lie if I don’t show him signs. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head in your arms. Damn it. None of this would be happening if I wasn’t so stupid. I never even wanted to break up with Azul in the first place. I was just…scared.

Tears prick your eyes. 

I was scared that his proposal was real. I was scared of ruining what we have. I was scared of the idea that he might actually, truly love me. 

And then they come falling, tracing down your cheeks in salty streams.

And because of that I drank too much again and left his house drunk and allowed myself to—stop. What’s done is done. You have to focus. Crying isn’t going to solve anything. Lifting your head from your arms, you wipe furiously at your eyes. If I was Azul, I’d listen and learn. Gather as much information as I can and try to use it to my advantage. Knowing that I’m on the second floor is helpful. It means there isn’t a clear path to the front door, but with this I can get a general idea of the layout. Bathroom, bedroom, hall, stairs, and whatever else is in between and below that.

Inhaling briefly, you hold it for a few seconds and then release. You do this a few more times until your frazzled nerves have calmed and the panic that once produced a rapid-fire train of thoughts has subsided. 

It’s a start, so don’t cry. Azul doesn’t like it when you cry. 

When Jade returns, he’s holding a tray that has dishes and a towel balanced on it. Something else is held under his arm and you don’t register what it is until it’s being unfolded before your very eyes. A child-sized wooden dining table is placed at your feet. You stare at him while he sets a bowl and a glass of water on top of it, along with accompanying utensils and napkins. The towel is handed to you next and when you unwrap it you find an ice pack snuggled amidst the fluffy fabric. You waste no time in positioning it under your ankle. Jade ducks into the bedroom to drag a table and chair over to the doorway, where he sits with his own meal. 

Peering at the serving, which smells and looks deliciously appetizing, you weigh the chance that it might contain bits of human on a tilting scale. 

“What is it?” you finally ask, prodding at it with your fork. 

“Mushroom and spinach pasta,” he answers with a pleased smile, and the more you poke through the dish the more relieved you are to see those exact ingredients. “You can stop playing with your food now.”

“And it’s not poisoned?”

“You wound me. I’m a chef, first and foremost.” His hand splays over his chest and you sneer at the obvious feint. “You’ve tried my cooking before, haven’t you?”

“That was before I was locked up in your house.”

You twirl a small amount on your fork and turn it over dubiously. On one hand, if it’s dangerous you’ll be freed from this madness. On the other hand, it could be a normal dish. You glance at Jade. He’s staring right back at you, waiting with his own fork poised at his mouth. At least, if it has been poisoned, you hope it’ll kill you quickly. Gathering your nerves, you stuff the portion into your mouth and chew. You expect to swallow fingernails or hair or bone, but all that goes down is a mouthwatering bite of creamy mushroom and spinach pasta.

Jade smirks at you from where he sits. “See? It’s an honest meal after all.”

���Yeah. Whatever.” Despite that, you’re quick to eat another mouthful. Apparently, near-death terror works up a grand appetite. “Pasta feels a little repetitive, though.”

And kind of sickening. This entire charade is like a meal on death row with my executioner. 

“Is it not to your liking?”

“No, it’s good. I don’t think it’ll kill me, so I can’t complain. But… Well, I had pasta when I was with Azul. It just made me think of him.”

“He does resemble pasta.” Lifting his fork, two strands of linguine hang limply from the prongs. Upon noticing your baffled expression, he chuckles. “Forgive me. The comparison is a little inaccurate right now.”

“Do you always think with your stomach?”

“Would you prefer I think with this instead?” He gestures towards his lap and you glare in disbelief. “That was the foundation of your relationship with Azul, wasn’t it? Should I try that method for myself?”

“Don’t even think about it.” You point at him with your fork, pasta coiled around it. “I’ll bite it in half if you put it anywhere near me.”

A needle-toothed grin sharpens on his lips as he withdraws something from his pocket. It’s a leather wallet, much to your chagrin. “Whatever did you think I was referring to?”

“Nothing.” You shove another bite into your mouth with a grumble. “I can’t believe you can make jokes at a time like this. Are you even the same Jade from before?”

He chuckles and licks cream sauce from his fork. “I’ve heard it’s comforting to make light of unpleasant situations. You shouldn’t be so tense. I’m not fond of tough meat.” 

You groan and run your hand over your face. “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty. I’ll be leaving for work soon, so you’ll have to keep yourself occupied while I’m gone. If you’re good, I’ll bring you Azul’s jacket.”

“Don’t treat me like a pet.”

But a jacket would be nice. A strapless dress isn’t very warm.

“A pity. You seem to wear your collar without complaint. Azul’s trained you well.” 

“It’s a ring, and it’s because we’re engaged. There’s no training involved. It’s love.” Before you can say anything else, a sudden realization hits you. “Wait. Eight-thirty at night? It’s already been a day?”

Jade nods, sipping from his glass as if this news isn’t revolutionary. It may not be to him, but knowing that a full day has passed and you’ve been trapped inside a bathroom for the entirety of it crushes you. If you weren’t stuck here, you’d still be with Azul, most likely waking for your shift in the golden hours of morning. He’d insist on driving you even though you’ve told him time and time again that he shouldn’t go through the trouble. You’d sit in the passenger seat and gaze at the city as it passes by in a blur of colors and shapes while Azul grouses over how the summer humidity frizzes his hair and makes him look like he just crawled out of a cave.

You’d tell him, with brimming confidence, “Good thing I like cave-dwelling beasts,” and he’d laugh that flustered laugh you adore—the one that’s half-gasp, half-chuckle—and you’d immediately regret spouting such foolish flattery. He never runs late, so the two of you would stop at a café, chat the hour away over pastries and tea, and then you’d be standing on the pavement in front of your workplace, waving to his car as it grows smaller against a sunny horizon. 

Your eyes find the ring. What would Azul do?

“I… I want his jacket. But what’re you going to want in return?” 

“Your silence.” 

“And if I don’t give you my silence?”

“Need I remind you that you’re not in any position to challenge me?” He peers down at you with a disapproving frown. 

“Ah, r-right. I’ll be quiet, and in exchange you have to bring me Azul’s jacket.” Mulling over the length of a typical night shift, you’re quick to add, “And a book! If I’m going to be stuck here for hours, I want something to read.”

Varying levels of consideration pass over his face. “Have you ever read any nature guides?”

Your brow furrows at the sudden inquiry. “I read one about the solar system and another about the ocean. Why?”

“I recommend A Hiker’s Guide to Fantastic Fungi. It’s very informative.”

“Oh. Uh. Thank you?” Silence threatens to consume the bathroom and so you rush to salvage this dying conversation. “Do you like fungi?”

“I enjoy hiking,” he corrects. “The flora and fauna on land are quite enthralling. Fungi species are just part of the experience.”

I never knew that was his hobby, you realize. I mean, of course I never knew. I don’t really know Jade. 

“Then…” You gesture at the framed artworks on the wall. “Did you make those?”

He nods. “I sketch most of them in the wilderness. I’ve found it’s beneficial to surround myself with my muse when I’m drawing. It keeps me motivated.”

“That’s…really cool, actually.”

And surprisingly tame for a guy who wants to eat me.

“I’m pleased you think so.”

“You’re really talented.” The words tumble from your mouth without your meaning to, and Jade blinks at you. “I’m serious. Your sketches are beautiful.”

If I’ve learned anything from my time with Azul, it’s that good food and not-so-honest praise are the ways to a person’s heart.

Although this time you’re telling the truth. Every plant has been drawn with such careful precision, each meticulous graphite stroke a testament to Jade’s patience and skill. He’s sketched all sorts of wildlife, from moss on stones to mushrooms on a fallen tree. Among each drawing, there are flowers. Little clusters dotting the corners of the page. Some bloom from a grassy field or on the side of what looks like a mountain, and others are single blossoms backdropped by pristine paper. He’s labeled some of them, detailing certain parts in elegant script, and from the way he’s placed his art in simple, yet aesthetically fitting frames it’s obvious he’s proud of his work. 

Jade wipes nonexistent sauce from his mouth, his stare lingering on the cutlery in his other hand. “You flatter me.” 

“Maybe I’ll read that nature guide you recommended.” His gaze slides over to you, shoulders rising in what you think might be anticipation. “As long as you’d be willing to lend me a copy.”

A covert smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Of course.”

Dinner carries on without incident. You’re able to put aside last night’s horrors and focus on civil chit-chat with Jade, which proves to be more disconcerting than anything else you’ve endured thus far. How he can carry on so normally after he’s kidnapped and threatened his former friend with death is beyond you. 

By the time you’ve finished your meal, Jade’s already begun cleaning. You watch him as he works from where you slouch against the sink, your legs extended outwards. The ice pack has gone soft with the passage of time and when Jade holds his hand out to take it you place it in his palm. He promises to bring you another before he leaves. 

Your eyelids are heavy when he returns minutes later with a novel and a fresh ice pack. You catch part of the title as sleep drags you under. A Hiker’s Guide…to something. Jade smiles down at you, victory splayed on his countenance. 

“Sweet dreams.” Slender fingers wrap around the door knob and he holds his index up to his lips. And then the door shuts, locking you inside a cubic prison.

Liar, you think as you fall into a drug-induced slumber. 

Azul joins you on the deck, a mojito in hand and a cloth pouch in the other. Framed by a sprawling azure sky, thin strands of cumulus decorating the vast blue, he looks every bit the serene vacationer he currently is, albeit slightly annoyed. Azul wouldn’t be Azul if his brilliant hues weren’t always narrowed in critique. Your eyes rove these items, considering them briefly, before flicking up to view the octopus- and palm-patterned sun hat that sits atop his head, and a broad grin stretches on your face.

“You’re wearing it.”

“The designs are conflicting.”

“I think it’s cute.” You sip idly at your strawberry daiquiri. Condensation coats your fingers. “It suits you.”

“It most certainly does not,” he says around an indignant huff, peering out at the churning waves below the massive cruise ship. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

He holds the pouch out to you and smiles. You’d think it’s an offering with how his features soften graciously, but you know Azul’s merely paying you back for the hat you bought him when the ship docked at the previous island. You’d perused all sorts of designs, but the one he currently wears stuck out to you solely because palm trees can’t exist under the sea like an octopus can. Azul didn’t see the humor in it and had continued onwards, sandal soles slapping a steady pace against the cobblestones, while you slipped the amount to the seller with a wink, who’d been more than happy to stow the surprise inside a gift bag. 

You set your drink on the ledge and take it from him, prying it open with skilled fingers. With a knit brow, you withdraw a sterling silver necklace. A jellyfish pendant hangs from the chain, its tendrils cradling a single cerulean pearl. A delighted squeal slips past your lips and you hold it up to compare its likeness to him.

“It matches your eyes!” He reaches out to take the necklace from you, but you’re already fastening it around your neck. Azul withdraws and leans against the ship railing instead, elbows propped on the ledge. He sips from his mojito. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as you.”

You bark out a laugh and reclaim your drink. “All right, charmer. Allow me to return the favor.” Sidling up to him, you lean in to place a chaste kiss upon his cheek. “Now we’re even.”

“Hardly.” His cold fingers find your chin, guiding you into a sweeter smooch, and he tastes pleasantly of rum and mint. When he pulls away, there’s a smirk crowding his handsome features. “Strawberry is a fitting flavor for you.” 

You nudge him playfully. “I could say the same about you and mint.”

“You think so? I’d say I’m more sweet than refreshing.”

“Really? Then how about this?” You angle yourself towards him and he places one hand on his hip, challenging you with a raised brow. “I’m mint and you’re strawberry.”

“Or we could settle for pineapple.” He plucks the fruit wedge from your beverage and traces it along the circular rim of his glass. 

“At this point, we might as well make a smoothie.”

“Smoothies would fit the tropical theme. We are in paradise, after all.” With a sweeping hand motion, he directs your attention to the sea that surrounds you on all sides, cradling the ship in white-capped surf. He places the pineapple slice in his mouth, where it vanishes in a single bite.

You tilt your head at him, certain that the alcohol is to blame for your warming body. Despite that simple scapegoat, adoration tingles throughout your nerves, ending at your fingertips in electric fizzles. “I like talking nonsense with you.”

“Is that right? Perhaps we should do this more often.” 

Like a bee drawn to flowers, you’re inching closer to him, unable to stay away. Before either of you can seal the distance, someone’s arm is thrown around you and you’re shoved harshly against Azul.

“Enough flirting! They have a basketball court. Let’s go play!” Floyd announces merrily, tightening his grip in lighthearted warning. 

“Be careful! I nearly dropped my drink!” Azul snaps, rounding on him with a scowl. 

“Oh my.” Jade appears beside Floyd, sporting a collared shirt patterned with palm fronds, khaki shorts, sandals, and a plain sun hat. Floyd’s outfit matches Jade’s in terms of tropicality, but flamingos dot his unbuttoned shirt, which reveals a nicely toned torso for curious eyes, and his swim trunks are speckled with sharks. Much like the opposing graphics on Azul’s hat, Floyd also wears two very different animals, one confined to land and the other confined to sea. “So this is where our lovestruck duo have run off to.”

“Jade, good timing! Help us settle this debate.” You shrug Floyd off—he pouts at you—and link arms with Azul. “Between the two of us, who’s mint and who’s strawberry?”

Azul, who had once looked so bitter, brightens, laughter lacing his syllables when he adds, “This is very important, Jade.”

“I can tell.” He glances at you, mismatched eyes tracing your summer dress and the jellyfish necklace tied around your throat, and then turns his attention to Azul. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think either of you fit those flavors.”

“Okay, next twin! Floyd, between the two of us—”

“If I were to compare the two of you to fungi, Azul would be the Psilocybin mushroom and (Name) would be the Amanita verna or, more commonly, the destroying angel.”

“Gross. Jade’s talking about mushrooms again,” Floyd mutters, nose scrunching as if his words carry an undesirable odor. He seizes your wrist and pulls you away from Azul. “Come on! Let’s go!”

As you’re dragged towards the waiting court, you hear Azul say, “Those comparisons are hardly flattering.”

Jade chuckles. “This is merely my opinion. Take it with a grain of salt.”

Floyd weaves through the people lingering on the deck and as you pass them you begin to realize they’re all stationary—as if frozen in time—and when you look back at Floyd his features have morphed into something sharp and cruel. He’s dressed in a lab coat and rubber gloves, and when he speaks his intonation is clipped. 

“Reckless behavior leads to reckless accidents.”

Your mouth moves on its own accord. “But I saw something!”

The mysterious man lowers to your height, and suddenly you’re child-sized. His hands rest firmly on your shoulders. 

“It’s nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“But it was—”

“Sickly thing… Arguing serves no purpose here.” He rises to his full height, and when you gaze up at him he’s illuminated by a single milky-white eye. It casts a strange film over the now empty deck, as if a thick fog has descended upon the cruise, and it blinks seconds later when the man adds in a voice reminiscent of the woman on the intercom, “Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color of you.”

You grab hold of the lab coat before he can vanish altogether. The dream is beginning to come undone at the seams, ripping itself apart as consciousness dawns on you. 

“You’re wrong!” An obsidian tentacle bursts from the deep, coming down upon the man in a resonating slap and you jump away just as another swipes across the polished deck. “The color of loneliness is—”

Sound returns to the deck all at once. You spy Floyd amidst the panicked passengers, and when you blink he’s disappeared. In his place, a woman stands facing the sea. Her arms are folded behind her back, and you weave through the crowd in pursuit of her. 

She’s within touching distance now and you reach for her, hoping to grasp her sleeve, when you’re suddenly yanked backwards into someone’s chest. Strong arms cage you against him, and you can hear his frantic heartbeat. A hurried succession of buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum. On and on, never ceasing.

“I was so worried! You’ll never leave me again, right? You could have gotten hurt—or worse! If you want to go somewhere, tell me. I’ll be more than happy to take you. Just please—whatever you do—don’t leave me.”

You crane your neck to look at him, but all you see is that milky eye. It reflects an aquatic monster and it’s reaching out for you with deathly pale, stick-thin arms. 

Wait! Don’t go! We’re so close! I’m almost—

Gooey strands of dream snap at once, saving you from a sinking ship, and you wake hours later, confined in the quiet of Jade’s bathroom. You count your breaths as you look up at the ceiling, feeling strangely empty. As if you’re missing a vital component of yourself.

I'm almost there...

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 3

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.1k

"Y/N," Minghao started anxiously, "remember what I taught you."

"No," You argued, "fight your hardest. But you look out for yourself. If they get me, then let them. Worry about yourself, Minghao." The desperate look in his eyes showed you that he didn't want to comply, but you got out of the car before he could respond. You walked over to the men with a deep pit in your stomach, but you made sure you weren't readable. Minghao followed after, walking up to you and shielding you protectively.

"Can we help you?" Minghao shouted, a permanent scowl etched in his features. While Minghao covered your body, you tried to reach for a gun that was tucked in his waistband.

"You can make this easy. Give us your shit and nobody will have to die." A husky man growled, any you could physically feel Minghao's muscles tense up. While trying to reach for the gun, the same man purred at you. "Oh, why hello there, sweetheart. I know what you're doing, and don't fucking do it; or I'll blow your brains out." He ordered, cocking his gun and pointing it at you. You didn't exactly know what to do in this situation, but Minghao put his hands above his head so you did that too. "Drop the gun." The bearded, gruff man demanded and you did.

Other men went to your car, and gaped at the massive duality of weaponry stacked in it. "Boss," One of the men said, "they're decked. There's no way in hell that they're surviving on their own, come look at this."

The man whom you assumed to be their boss jogged over, as you sucked in a wispy but annoyed breath. You glanced at Minghao, and you could see the worried look on his face. They were going to find out that you two weren't exactly struggling, and they were going to force you to take them back to camp. You were not going to let that happen.

"Minghao, when I say run I mean you fucking run. Get out of sight as fast as possible, and get back to your people." You hissed, and before he could argue you screamed "RUN!" and picked up the gun from off the ground. You shot one of the 10 men in the leg, and he went down immediately. You begged to the gods that you doubted that Minghao ran, and you smiled when he was no where in sight. You shot one of the men reaching through a door in your car somewhere in the stomach, and he dropped like a fly.

You knew you weren't going to win against all of the men, but you took down as many as you could. But then your mind traveled to the gas tank of the car, and you smiled quite mischievously. You would burn all of the supplies and kill some of them, but that means that they would never get a hold of your things. So, with one final shot, a bullet whipped through the air and into the gas tank.

With a deafening roar, the car exploded into orange fiery bits. Raspy screams from the men in the car were heard over the collision and ash. You tried to make a run for it, but their leader pounced on top of you, and your head plummeted straight onto the tar of the road. Within seconds, you were out.

-

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pounding ache in your head. Then, you felt burns on your wrists and ankles. You opened your eyes to nothing but black, and it took you a while until you realized you had a blindfold on. You could only see when you looked down, so you tilted your head up and peaked through to see nothing but a cold, dank basement. The walls were gray, and a musty odor captivated your nostrils. You wanted to scream, but at the same time you didn't want to let the people know you were awake. You assumed you were tied up, and that the remainder of the men got you after you took them down.

You struggled a bit, but the ropes withholding you were indestructible. You soon heard a muffle gargle, and your covered eyes widened when your ears distinctly remembered the noise. It was one of the infected.

Soon, you started screaming for help, not caring that you showed you were awake. You heard footsteps walk down the stairs, and soon your blindfold was taken off. You were face to face with their gruff leader, a man whom you did not want to reckon with. "So you've met our little friend, huh?" He taunted, referring to the walker being contained by very feeble ropes. Those ropes could snap any minute, and the teeth of the rotting fleshed monster would sink into your skin, ending your very brief life.

"What do you want?" You asked darkly, anger spilling from your tongue. Your eyes met his brown ones, and he merely smiled.

"You see, I may seem like the bad guy. But you killed six of my men, you fucking bitch!" He maniacally screamed, and then he threw his fist toward your face. It collided with your jaw painfully, and you let out a disgruntled moan, the ache instantly kicking in. "Ah, I shouldn't have messed up your pretty face, darling. Let's get on a first name basis, shall we? I'm Seungcheol, what about you darling?" You spat in his face.

You were then greeted with a kick right to the stomach, leaving you breathless and dazed. The pain was overwhelming, consuming you like a sheer meal. You knew you were done for, but you weren't going down without a fight. "Let me ask that again. What. Is. Your. Name." Seungcheol spat through gritted teeth. You only smirked, and spat weakly, some blood in your spit this time.

Each time he asked you a question, you refused to answer. That resulted in you bathing in horrendous pain, as various gashes and bruises coated your body. Collisions upon collisions overpowered you, each one of his fire punches or kicks not powerful enough to break your spirit. You were on the verge of passing out, until you heard an unfamiliar voice shout upstairs. "Boss! HELP!" It croaked, and both of you knew exactly why he was shouting. He only smirked deviously, and cut the ropes holding the straggler behind within seconds, and zipped upstairs while muttering,

"Have fun!"

The infected monster immediately started walking towards you, its slow limping only dragging on your inevitable death. Each step it took led you to more colorfully anticipate your gruesome, slow death. You were too weak to fight it, and you were tied up. Various throaty gargles were erupting from the creature's rotting mouth, as tears of pain and fear rolled down your face.

But then you remembered why Seungcheol left in the first place. They were here, to save you.

So you screamed at the top of your fucking lungs. Within seconds, Joshua came sprinting down the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw you, and Minghao came tumbling after who didn't even flinch at the sight of you. Joshua was on top of the walker within seconds, sticking a knife through its fragile head and finally putting its life to an end. "Go help them upstairs, I got her." Joshua ordered, and Minghao just nodded and looked at you, his eyes screaming so many apologies, and your warm eyes forgave him. Without any words traded, he smiled sadly and ran back upstairs. Joshua began untying your legs, then your arms. "I was worried sick. When we saw the ruckus, where the fire was, we thought you were in that." Joshua confided, while looking you in the eyes powerfully. His words held so much weight, and you tried to ignore the horrible pain so you could respond.

"That...was my doing," You grumbled, flinching each time your jaw had to move, and Joshua merely smiled.

"I know." He said, and then he picked you up bridal style, and you were close enough to view his very angelic features. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, his honey glistened skin shiny with perspiration. His eyes chocolate brown eyes were rough, but they had a certain clarity to them. You examined his rounded nose, which you would've found endearing in another moment.

He ran up the stairs, sprinting through the fighting crowds expertly. You recognized Junhui and Hansol fighting against two unfamiliar men, and you took into account that you were in a warehouse. You saw Seungcheol and a few other men escaping, locking eyes with him from far away. He merely glared, and now it was your turn to smile menacingly. And while in Joshua's arms, everything turned black.

-

Pain. That's the only thing you could feel, it canceled out every other feeling of guilt, sadness, fear, or angst. It swallowed you hole, it was an undertow that pulled you out to an ocean of relentless fucking pain. You felt it everywhere, in your feet, your legs, stomach, head, face, arms, hell - even your ears. You forced your eyes open, the blackness of the windows outside signalling that evening was upon the world. You looked around, and you were in a large van with Junhui, Minghao, Hansol, Seungkwan, Cleo, Margo, and Joshua. Minghao was driving, and you were in the middle row sprawled across the entirety of seats. Margo and Cleo were in the fourth row, Seungkwan and Junhui in the last, and Joshua in the front with Minghao. "I'm awake." You croaked, your voice raw and raspy.

Seungkwan crawled over the various rows clumsily, making you smile at his dorkiness. You needed the comic relief right about now. He checked your wounds, asked you basic questions, and your answers clearly scared him.

Your mind traveled back to the "alone time" with Seungcheol, and a familiar pain coated your brain.

"Y/N!" The Doctor shouted, punching you relentlessly. You cried, broken down and beaten to the point of hopelessness. You would never try to escape again, you promised that about a thousand times. "You're lucky we're not killing you, Zero." The Doctor muttered sickly, and you cried more. You were 15, stuck in that place your entire damn life.

"I'm so sorry!" You sobbed, as he neared you with a knife. He smiled mercilessly, sadistically, and then he slit your wrist. It bled uncontrollably, and the hot stinging pain was all you could focus on. The blood squirted out of the punctured wound, the cut deep and red. The skin was raw, and the feeling of the metal gliding across your skin drove you close to insanity. It was amazing how you weren't insane yet, but it was your determined spirit that kept you alive. It certainly dwindled throughout the years of you being here, but it survived nonetheless; along with you. "Please stop, I'll never leave ever! PLEASE!" You begged, as he continued to punch you and give you little cuts with the knife.

You gasped, the reckoning force of reality sucking you back into the real world. "What happened?" Seungkwan asked worriedly, his eyebrows furrowed sadly while he struggled to breathe properly.

"Memory." Is all you could manage to say. You then rolled the sleeve up on your right wrist, and a very large and clear scar was distinguishable from the rest of the wounds you received in that day. That scar was from The Doctor. You couldn't remember who he was, but all you knew is that you were terrified of him.

"Are you okay? We're almost back." Joshua asked, concern thick in his sad yet worried tone.

"There was a doctor," You hissed, trying to move into a more comfortable position (until you realized that there were no comfortable positions) "and he told me to never try to leave again."

"What?" Minghao sputtered, his eyes glancing to yours through the mirror. You could see the sadness in his eyes, his chocolate orbs reverberating with guilt.

"I can't explain it- I'm too fuzzy. The pain is too much." You cried, your heaved breathing rugged and inconsistent.

"We have painkillers back at Fort Lockwood. Don't worry." Junhui reassured, his tone soft and grateful.

"Y/N, you're fucking amazing." Cleo praised, and you weakly smiled. You saw the familiar forest the fort was hidden in, and you let people carry you inside and into their little "hospital".

You were injected with god knows what, but it made your body and mind numb, and then you fell into the world of nothingness,