As Sylvian slowly opened his eyes, his world came swirling into view, vague light and chipped walls, as that distinct metallic taste of fear was just sitting there. His wrists were achey, his heart beating a hollow sound pounding against the binding ropes that had scrapped at his skin for hours.
And then... he recognized him.
Akiel.
For a fleeting moment, Sylvian thought this was a slightly different hallucination--like the kinds you get once you've pushed exhaustion and despair. But no. It was the person he wanted to see and sworn not to see again, there, in real life.
Akiel was shuddering at the broken door, his eyes shining, though he still lay dying.
Seeing that had almost felt like stabbing Sylvian through the chest. He didn't knew if to laugh for joy, cry or scream. That little light of hope that remained inside him, the same one that had brought him even this far, was shining brightly now and nearly stopped his heart.
"Akiel..." He whispered.
Akiel said nothing. He kneeled at Sylvian's feet, his hands trembling with excitement to pull the rope back through that had tied his wrists this entire time.
But just as he would get...
A voice shattered everything like glass.
"What? Oh, come on."
Quinly stepped out of the shadows before moving on, smirking and somehow taking over the room like some kind of poison gas.
"Seriously, Akiel? You're actually defending him? What about us? Your friends?"
Akiel tried not to get mad. "What friends, Quinly? What us? There's nothing left. It's done. And I'm glad it's done."
Her frustrated look shifted to angry with dead eyes. "Oh come off it. You literally said you hate him, wanted to make his life miserable. I mean, you literally went along telling everyone his little secret—what was it? A guy with whatever name it was? Eliot, I think?"
The name lingered in the air like a curse.
Sylvian's body froze completely. His stomach knotted into itself. Eliot.
It had been months since he had even heard that name. He had buried it, he had put it as deep inside the dark center of himself as he possibly could, and now it was tumbling out of Quinly's lips like poison from a snake.
Akiel whipped her head around to face Quinly, rage blooming in his eyes. "Who the hell are you talking about? I haven't told anyone nothing! I spilled everything I said because I was drunk, you know? I was just spitting out bullshit! It meant nothing!"
But the damage was done.
Sylvian's hands turned ice cold. His heart throbbed, so painful that it felt as though it could burst..
How could he know? How could Quinly associate herself in any way with that name, unless...
His eyes were locked on Akiel, the boy who, at one point, had gained a little of his trust.
Quinly smirked as he sensed the disturbance. "See?! He doesn't even deny it properly. You told me, Akiel. Or maybe you don't remember?"
"Shut up," said Akiel, but the look of guilt in his eyes gave her every ounce of victory she needed.
Before anyone could react, one of Quinly's guys, a lanky kid in a leather jacket, reached over and grabbed the metal bottle that was on the table, swinging the metal bottle up high.
This all took place in a matter of seconds.
"Akiel, watch out--!"
The sound of metal cracking against flesh was like a clap of thunder.
But it wasn't Akiel who had been hit.
It was Sylvian.
He had previously freed himself by cutting the rope with a knife he'd stolen off a table leg: it was no time to think when you are being attacked only to react.
The bottle smashed into the side of his head, and instead he knelt in awareness. He felt the feeling spread underneath her skin. It was fire, but he gritted his teeth, and remained sitting just so.
Then chaos.
A door kicked in: Julia tripped down the hall with 3 more friends, and behind her was Principal Drewen, his face now covered in cold fury.
"Enough!" Principal Drewen's voice begun vibrating off the walls in the room.
Quinly's friends stopped frozen with terror dripping from their faces. Julia's group remained glued to the floor two human down the hall while Principal Drewen had Quinly by the wrist.
"Come on," he said harshly to Quinly. He dragged her, yet she spat a jewel of curses that landed in the hall like marbles.
Once the commotion was over and the dust settled, Sylvian was left on the ground, bleeding from his head. He didn't even bother looking up, so Akiel stepped closer.
"I --," he started softly, but Sylvian cut him off.
"Don't."
Sylvian's voice was low and shaky, but you could feel warm anger pouring out of him.
And then he got up and swayed a little, and turned his back.
"Believing in you was the biggest mistake of my life. I thought you would change, I thought you would keep your fucking mouth shut." His voice broke, almost as if he were being ripped apart. "Julia was right about you. You are poison, Akiel. Just get the fuck out of my life."
And then he continued to limp away without looking back.
For a heartbeat Akiel just stood there, aghast, shirt was between his heart and these words, until instinct kicked in, and he ran after him.
The hall out was quiet. The lights flickered and faded, and the sound of footsteps echoed.
"Sylvian, wait!" he yelled, running. He caught up to him and reached, grabbing his wrist. "Please- please just listen."
Sylvian tensed up but did not move. "WHAT IS THERE TO LISTEN TO."
"It was an accident! I swear, Quinly just put all of that in my head! I didn't say anything to anybody about Eliot—"
Sylvian turned quickly; rage came to life in his eyes and he made a squeeze on Akiel's throat. "So how the fuck she knew I'm suppose to be stupid?"
"I'm drunk okay? I just said it. But I—"
"You're always saying that, and then you're sorry when it the harm is done and too late." And always I meant to not whatever that meant ends up something bleeding too.
Akiel's hand was shaking as he lifted it, and eventually came to a stop as his palm rested on Sylvian's cheek but only hesitantly. "Then let me heal it."
Sylvian pulled away, just at first, but Akiel did not let go of his hand. His eyes were wide open, so wet, and in that reflection of eyes too, deeper, something mixed with his guilt, but he cannot say it because his own guilt was too tender.
"You took the hit for me." Akiel whispered. "And you didn't have to! You could have just let me get hit, and you didn't. That should mean something right? That you still care?
"Don't break it," said Sylvian, growling back at him. "—because I'm still worried!" Akiel responded; his voice shook, "no matter the fact you hate me, no matter if I deserve this or not, I still—"
Finally, Sylvian took hold of Akiel's wrist, glaring into him with as many tears as he didn't know were in his eyes. "Akiel, will you just Shut. Up?"
Akiel blinked harder now, slowly.
"Look at you..." Sylvian whispered. "You're bleeding, your lip is cut, and you're a complete wreck, and you decide to keep fying the ways of the martyr. Maybe take a moment to figure yourself out before you come complain to me, trying to fix me."
Sylvian's words may have been more cruel than he meant them to be, he certainly just cracked.
Akiel gave a shaky chuckle that didn't hit his eyes. ""You make me think like you care about me."
Sylvian turned away rigid in the jaw. git. "Don't be feeling so good about yourself."
Outside, distant thunder echoed, and the lights once again began to blink, as if the world itself could not look upon them.
And for one heartbeat, in that dark corridor, Akiel wished time would stop, so that Sylvian would not step away, so that the moment would not pass.
But it did.
Because Sylvian stepped back, took a shaky breath, and said
"Goodbey, Akiel."
Then he turned -- and left him standing alone in the space fading light.
And Akiel, still bleeding, still trembling, whispered alone in the dark,
"I never intended to lose you."