Gilbert’s pale face stood out in stark contrast to the dark room. The mug of golden alcohol loitered around untouched the cluttered surface of his desk. The only light found its origin in a single waxen candle, which was slowly coming to its inevitable end.
The demon’s hands curled, sharp claw-like nails digging into his fists which he repeatedly started beating against his already bruised temples. Just thinking about the relief evident in your expression when he burst into the room with Ivan, even if he was in chains. Your terrified expression when Natalya broke you.
It made him break down in wracking sobs, a desperate cry for help sent up to the heavens where, he had no doubt, you now resided. It was the only place your spirit would have gone, the only place pure enough for yourself. The only place that was loved by humans, but dreaded by demons.
It was the one place in the entire world that he couldn’t go to.
Antonio chewed the inside of his lip, watching his tormented friend. Beside him, Francis gazed into the depths of the wineglass he swirled occasionally in his palm, the spinning red substance hypnotising him into forgetting about which sorrows they were facing. “We have to do something,” the brunette breathed, his voice cracking because of its lack of use.
“Anyzhing, but what?” the Frenchman agreed, a quiet click sounding as he put his glass down on the small table with spindly legs beside him. “Well, presuming the chica’s gone to heaven,” Antonio started, the cogs in his brain visibly turning.
“Which she ‘as. Zhere is no way zhey wouldn’t allow ‘er in,” Francis interrupting to confirm the previous uncertainty.
“Then all we have to do is go up there and demand the chica back, no?” Antonio finished, a shrug showing the simplicity of what they had to do. Francis’s blue eyes narrowed. “One does not simply walk into ‘eaven. Much less waltz into it like you seem to be planning to.”
“What else can we do?” The moment of silence rung painfully loudly in their ears. A sudden creak broke the uncomfortable hush that had descended upon the men. Gilbert’s chair had scraped against the floor, even falling backwards when the albino had stood up so suddenly. “I need her.”
Both of his friends bit their lips, cringing at the utter despair and sorrow in his hoarse voice. “I can’t survive vizhout her. If she’s still somevhere.... zhen I’m going to find her. No matter vhat.” His voice broke at the end of his determined proclamation, his shoulders straightening despite that. “Vill you come vizh m-“
Two different hands clapped him on the shoulder.
“Need you ask?”
“ Where shall we start?”
Gilbert rested his hands on theirs, a smile blossoming over his face. “Danke.”
Your head throbbed like hell. Was it because of that blinding light that seemed to burn its brightness permanently onto your retinas? That could be a good guess, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to shift so that the light would be blocked somehow. In doing so, you gasped as fresh, massive pain started to pound in your neck. It almost felt as though there was an open wound, your lifeblood bleeding away as you rasped for breath.
Almost instantaneously, the light faded away in one go. Though through your eyelashes you could detect the hazy silhouette of a person, you couldn’t properly focus on them. “Sleep, you need rest,” the person told you, something heavy pressing on your chest. Warmth radiated from your body and you sunk into the depths of deep sleep once more.
It only felt moments later, but in reality the time it took you to wake up again must’ve been much longer. The blinding light still wasn’t there anymore, courtesy no doubt of the person that you’d glimpsed momentarily. Your throat was still throbbing dully and though you were parched, you felt more refreshed than if you would have taken ten baths after each other.
Slowly you sat up, pawing at the covers and feeling them up, marvelling at the silken texture. Not of the human world in any case, you concluded. “How are you feeling?” You jumped at the question that came from nowhere, glancing up sharply but immediately regretting it. The pain started up again and you touched your neck tenderly, cringing when the uncomfortably sensation increased.
A beaker of water was pressed to your hands and without trying to look up you gratefully drank it in one large gulp. “Thank you,” you breathed, your voice quite raspy. “Don’t mention it,” the figure said once again.
Gazing up at him as he seated himself on the side of your bed, all you could think of were his eyes. His piercing, forest green eyes that seemed to almost lovingly gaze back into yours. “How are you feeling?” He asked, repeating the question that had startled you so.
For a moment, you stared in contemplation at the beaker in your hands. “I’m alright, though I’ve been better.” Once you started thinking, you gasped and looked around frantically. “Gilbert! Where’s Gilbert?!” The man hushed you, placing his large hands on yours and rubbing them comfortably. However, the tone of his voice and the wild mess of his hair didn’t seem to match this fleeting kindness the man you now recognised as your ‘imaginary’ friend had shown you. In fact, his tone was dark and foreboding, his strange hair somehow adding to his menace though neither of these should have been interpreted like that, in an ominous way. It was his words that made your heart quail in apprehension.
“Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of.”