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hidden-not-isolated · 4 years

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Hidden, Not Isolated [C2]

On the following day, hell struck.

On the following day, it rained.

- - -

Plop.

Snapping back to consciousness, his awakening supported alongside a startled twitch whilst his briefly bewildered eyes had rapidly flickered a few times in surprise as he took a moment to fear-filled-ly realize the heavy drop that had splattered upon contact with his forehead, was a droplet of water, evident to the feeling that he got when it had literally plummeted upon him and a swift touch of the palm which instinctively turned into a wipe.

After taking a quick glimpse at his now somewhat wet hand, his head steadily began to promptly turn upwards and towards the sky, curious to see if it was anything else than what he inwardly knew it was or was a different cause that would significantly relieve his mind, one-hundred-and-ten-percent. After all, even if it was unlikely, had it be anything of a recently fractured pipe or other, he would be able to swiftly shift two feet to the left and get him and his mind back to sleep.

Sleep.

The water woke him.

The water woke him from an incredibly peaceful illusion of where he wasn’t even aware that he would ultimately be unmercifully dragged back to the reality of where he was stunk in the same spot, him not even being able to complete his self-mission with the astonishingly high risk of someone spotting him and calling the police, the police to take him to a jail where all of his freedom would be restricted and stripped from him significantly. Or, you know, just to die.

Plop.

His head instinctively snapped back to the alleyway.

Slow pitter-patter.

Keeping his head down, right eye shut, he glanced upwards slightly with his free vision, a fearful expression in tow.

Just constant pitter-patter.

His mind was so petrified of the whirlwind of the day he just had at that point, that he denied facts, “I’ll be fine...”

I mean, facts were always the things that he had once lent towards, shakily muttering that to no one but the nighttime’s atmosphere. His eyes being closed, him shying his eyes with his uncontrollably quivering hands like a child cowarding in their closet, did nothing physically for him. However, mentally is where there’s something to be said. Maybe, just maybe, if he could stay in this one position for however long it takes, solutions would just come to him without him doing a thing himself...yes, of course!

There was hope! Surely! Everything has a happy ending! Everyone gets a second chance! Everything will be okay! Yes, and now his happy ending is even closer! And even closer! And yet again! It’s all about patience, perseverance! Nothing can last forever! In good ways too! Everything gets resolved at one point or another! Any moment now! Of course!

Any moment now!

Not that he was smiling or anything.

Internally, he could hear his subconscious informing him in his mind of things he already knew, though he continuously refused to accept the facts at each and every opportunity possible. Honestly, his subconscious wasn’t at fault though. It was the voice of reason, not him. It wasn’t scolding him for running away from his problems. It wasn’t telling him unnecessarily negative things. It was just calmly and casually mentioning him of his responsibilities and he was drastically overreacting. He knew that. Shut up, shut up, shut up...

What are you doing...?

You can’t just stay here forever.

Everybody needs food and water sometime.

It hasn’t even been as much as a day yet.

If this is how every day is going to go, what would be of point of where you just give up?

Can you truly back to that kind of isolation once again?

Then again, what choice do you have?

If someone spots you, you’re gone.

What are you going to do?

Dragging the heavy weight that was his legs upwards, he painstakingly buried his expression in his knees, gathering himself up and into a trembling sphere to run away from his problems in a sense that he wanted to just evade of the subject of this horrid reality itself for a while, even if he knew that it wasn’t going to last forever and would plausibly be difficult to get a good-night’s-sleep with the hopeless rain beating.

Forcing himself to overlook that typical ounce of common-sense, his eyelids developed heavier and heavier once again, encouraging him to disregard the frigid liquid repeatedly plunging onto his being again and again as he gradually began to weaken into an unconscious status once again.

CRASH.

The somewhat outcry that had immediately ejected from his mouth instinctively was nothing in comparison to the roaring crack of thunder overhead, accompanied amidst a blinding outburst of lightning in the atmosphere. He had uncontrollably flinched violently in backlash to the sound in the background, obviously awakening before he hesitantly twisted his head upwards, finding himself gawking at the immeasurable sky above. The pitch-black sky just seemed to be so vast and endless all-so-suddenly; he could barely remember the normally azure sky anymore; the normally azure sky that illuminated the town so he could easily locate every possible ambush spot. After all, any central would constantly be freely roaming with criminals inhabiting the enigmatic shadows of which nobody would think to look for the sinner evading deserved consequence.

I mean,

When you phrase it like that,

It sounds kind of like Soren.

But I’m not sure he’s a big fan of irony.

CRASH.

His frightened outcry echoed in the atmosphere whilst his eyes widened in alert as another rupture of electricity rippled across the sky nothing more than moments later following the initial explosion. His heart suddenly hammering back and forth within his already frightened chest, his scared breaths steadily moulded into rapid heaves of hyperventilation. Ironically, even though he was making a conscious effort to breathe, the more he gasped for oxygen, the fleeter puffs he could inhale, the more his chest tightened, the most tortuously uncomfortable it was to breathe.

He couldn’t catch his breath.

His hypertension, stress, tiredness, and difficulty breathing eventually forced his eyesight to increasingly turn into a continually foggy blur that strongly intensified every now and then. Hell, he barely could be able to make out the thick silhouette of his own hand briefly waving in front of him as his eyes grew significantly heavier. He wasn’t only unable to locate him. He wasn’t only unable to talk to people. He wasn’t only unable to stay positive. He wasn’t only unable to persist through the storm.

He wasn’t able to take second-nature ticks to survive.

CRASH.

Again,

His existence was useless.

His heart frantically thumping faster than a cheetah, his sensitive skin being overlapped with panicking stress, the frequent roaring blots of thunder being replaced with an ear-piercing ring whilst his chest screeched, achingly powerless to inhale without exhaling the air instantaneously in the same half-second to the point of not being able to breathe at all, everything in his view extremely fuzzy, reality a haze beyond identification,

Everything went silent.

- - -

Heavy breathing.

Piercing ring.

Blur.

Heavy breathing.

Piercing ring.

Blur.

Heavy breathing.

Piercing ring.

Blur.

- - -

Where...am...I...?

Not only did he wonder about the glooming shadows crowding down on him, but was there an anvil on his chest and eyelids or something? His weak pants of air could only barely squeeze past his lips, whiffs fortunately smoothly gliding through his throat as his huffing sent into the breezing environment, environment anciently narrow. The invisible force on his eyelids may be a contributing factor to the continuous smears that his common-sense confirmed to be reality past the tone of broken breeze streaming throughout the proximity and physical coating of vast coldness.

Alleyway.

Right.

Wanted.

Hide.

Rain.

All that.

Awakening out of a crumpled mess, the cloudy dust trapping him forced his eyes to warningly bolt together to suddenly cough aloud amidst his mind, his mind filled with dismay of his abrupt breakdown, his chest vigorously tightening with each and every dry wheeze that had tumbled out from his throat until he was left with nothing but the damp, alley floor as he dragged himself upwards, sitting so dumbfoundedly.

When had he fallen asleep again?

Not only that, but if he had only just woken up, why was he so exhausted? Was he exhausted in his thoughts? Was that it? That would make sense. He couldn’t step a foot out of the shadows without the risk of someone beckoning the police on him, him knowing that he wouldn’t be able to fend himself if his life depended on it. Which it did. After all, if the authorities succeeded to find him, who’s to say that they would just let him off easier merely because he was apparently apologetic for deceiving the entire world and cheating the laws of physics, literally running away from consequence instead of owning up? What was he going to tell the police if he was ultimately discovered anyway?

I’m sincerely sorry. I’m aware I’ve consciously committed appalling sins but I’m also sincerely wanting not to pay the consequence, so may you be so kind as to help me find refuge?

No surprise there; that sounded ridiculous.

Same kind of ridiculous that was what sent his mind plunging down a spawl staircase, passing out along the way.

Not being sure what to do with his useless mind and useless thoughts, he hopelessly settled his hands upon the dimly lit ground, his bones being dangerously vulnerable in comparison to an average’s health; it may having something to do with the fact that he and his well-being hadn’t had anything of a day of where he could just go about its routine without a worry in the world for quite a while.

But he ignored that.

He’s seen worse, right?

Forcefully pressing his arms against the stone, he used his palms to prompt his body upwards whilst he realized just how unforgivingly cold the alleyway was yet again, even if the atmosphere presented now was an azure hue amidst the warmth that just seemed to purposely evade him as he slowly tore his numbly aching figure up and into an uncontrollably loose standing status.

Everything spinning.

His dizzy standstill propelled his head in circles, taunting to stumble face-first into the stone pavement, probably breaking his nose. Beyond the haze that was his fatigue, he was conscious enough to know that his reaction-times weren’t nearly sharp as they used to be. And when they used to be, he could defend himself. Hell, his strength to balance was tested just by using the cold wall behind himself to lean his weight against. Or lack-there-of, I mean. As his eyes forced themselves to cross, his lungs catching its breath as if it had run a marathon, Soren slipped entirely disoriented within his own thoughts. Again.

Lack of refuge.

Lack of hope.

Lack of courage.

Lack of understanding.

Lack of companions.

Lack of direction.

Lack of safety.

Lack of foresight,

Lack of survival-instinct.

Lack of strength.

Lack of health.

Well, things were just going phenomenal, weren't they?

“Where are they?”

Jumping out of his skin, the gasp that had ejected from his mouth had been somewhat muffled with the instinctive teeth-grit and hands instantaneously overlaying his mouth tightly whilst he simultaneously dropped himself from against the wall and into a sitting position on the alleyway floor, eyes showing sympathy for himself.

“They said their house was near the gate; let’s head there.”

Instinctively holding his breath, he didn’t even realize that he had checked off dizziness from his list of priorities, daze itself withering away from him.

“Okay...”

He never even truly thought about that.

He was wanted.

People were pursuing him.

An internal screech echoes within his mind.

Sincerely, this was ironic. Mentally, his voice of reason always reminded him that half of his anxieties were irrational and with the natural: “I’m the protagonist, what bad could truly happen to me?” mindset, this knowledge was actively rattling his subconscious to the core amidst conversations overheard to and fro, loudly fusing out of tune. Now that he had a very, very valid reason to exclusively seek refuge out of silhouettes, he was assuredly at a loss. Great. It’s not like the very person he was seeking for would just happen to candidly stroll by the alleyway, would he? His luck was just far to low for that.

Once again,

He was truly at a loss.

- - -

Accidentally withdrawing from an insomniac slumber, his eyelids daringly parted ways amidst consciously heaving his own adagio, broken breaths of heavily deep puffing which evaporated as soon as they left his mouth, rising towards the darkly clouded atmosphere as he figuratively felt the anvil on his chest make its second appearance on the fourth day alone. The cold wheezes gradually chilled the alleyway insignificantly whilst his dazed body embraced strangely tranquil feeling, rendering him unusually paralyzed to movements, the beading feeling of his senses abnormally numb.

He couldn’t move.

The apathetic feeling that was determined to immobilize him on the fourth day shuddered his soul to the core while his figure persisted to welcome a moveless status; A status moveless to the point of being senseless, unable to feel any positive feeling. That is, including a piercingly intense agony within his stomach, it intensifying to and fro, a demand greater than the desire to find refuge--an apparent command for food.

He was starving.

Stitching together enough self-preservation to try to thoroughly investigate the proximity, he strained to costively drag himself from his loose posture on the damp ground and into a limp sitting position, drastically exhausting whatever fragments that were left of his strength just by tearing his aching being from the pavement. His head was left to aimlessly hang from his scratchy neck and his newly fainted eyes to uselessly gaze at the concrete for a few moments before his lungs suddenly busted out into a coughing fit with little to no warning, the heavy rasp growing in his throat temporality erupting in escape beyond his lips, chest once again stiffening and slackening on and off with every bare wheeze, mind stuffed with plead to quit hacking his precious breath away.

. . .

His chest impermanently released of any built-up, itching discomfort, his confidence was somewhat restored by rationalizing that at least some of his tickling nausea had to be relieved, right? Dust violently expelled from his lungs, he hesitantly took that opportunity to plant his hands on the ground, not even paying any mind to the stiffly brisk floor beyond the powerful demand for food. As he tentatively used his sensitively vulnerable arms to hoist himself upward, he frantically ripped through the relatively tranquil atmosphere the second he settled his feet on the ground, seeing as he instantaneously stumbled over his own balance amongst a flinch, forcing his right shoulder to vigorously smash against the alleyway wall, him letting out an automatic, relatively loud outcry on impact, the side of his head cracking into the aforementioned building seconds after, the sudden movement abrupt to the point of being stunned even after instinctively securing his position with a hand weakly pressed upon the wall and yet another coughing frenzy simultaneously.

So standing was a no-go.

Take it that what had happened was that he hadn’t realized that his legs were frail to the point of being worthless until he had tripped over his absence of weight.

So he was useless.

His legs taunting to allow him to drop to the ground and him still being hungry, he quickly skimmed to the floor in defeatist, back to the wall.

So he was staving.

Him with an absence of an actual objective other than generally “find food,” he pointlessly studied the science of nothing what-so-ever besides catching his breath whilst gawking at the drizzly alleyway floor in front of him for a minute as his arms remained tightly grasped around his legs protectively, refusing to accept the fact that he couldn’t just shield himself from the shadows caving-in on him that effortlessly. Him himself trembling with both cold and disquietude, a shiver raced through his spine within the presence of the chilled nighttime air ensnaring him in its clouds of eclipsed enigma; Somehow, the luna’s duskiness really just felt rather worse than the other couple of nighttimes somehow. Just his luck. Would anything go his way? Perhaps only so many things go your way in life and perhaps he had previously swallowed up all of his. As for disquietude, he literally had nothing on him to guard himself against potential menaces with...

...right?

Fatigued sword...

Habits of the Endermen...

Walking Among the Endermen...

Compass...

Pickaxe...

A Man Forever Voyaging...

Torch...

Chorus Fruit...

Chorus Fruit?

They’re fruit...

They’re edible...!

He didn’t even remember he had those...!

I mean, not exactly much of a meal but at least a slice of his satisfaction and hunger would be restored from consuming a few of these berries, worst-case-scenario for him to call it a day there, right?

As he sank his teeth into the purple food, he couldn’t even swallow before he suddenly got a strange feeling briefly as if something bad was about to happen amidst a fuzzy sensation that instantaneously glazed past all of his body, momentarily unnerving his vanes to his blood along a gasp cut short by a dizzying event. Even now, him laying on freezing concrete amongst streams of brisk breeze coating over his character, he could barely understand what the smeared, dull colours of existence were, it also being accompanied by a loud, eerie, echoing soundtrack that was sickeningly familiar.

How’d he get out of the alleyway again?

Intense fatigue and hunger taking control of him, he and his attention were uncontrollably, wearily pinned onto the freezing pavement, bordering the edge of breaking out into anew coughing tantrum. The effect of the harsh nighttime atmosphere and moon gradually chilling everything that came in its path to a core made what would normally be clean breaths turn into frigid heaves. Him powerless to stand up for a moment, he took this opportunity to crestfallenly recall that any kind of Chorus Fruit were naturally counterproductive, him not being strong enough to continuously drag himself upwards and to the nearest, cryptic corridor again...and again...and again...

There goes that plan.

Slowly tearing himself upright, he was forced to instinctively groan with amidst a subconscious desire to just randomly teleport back to an alleyway in his vulnerability, his body complaining simultaneously with every significant movement. Then again, the idea of violently teleporting in any kind of similar manner again violated his soul to retaliate even with as much as the thought. His reduction of energy to balance was evidently proven once he used to his advantage a damp window of the building that was fortunately in his precise proximity to support his incompetent figure. He was restrained to roughly settle his right arm on the pane within the fact that his balance was loose to the point of nearly staggering to the ground once again in a blind stumble, evident alongside the wobbling. While his eyes quickly glanced past the reflecting glass, the distinct shading seized the windowpane to glaze a brief hue of light across its obvious shine and slightly wet drizzle inside the mysterious dusk. Though him to pay little to no mind to the environment and more to survival-instinct, the illumination haphazardly snatched his eyes’ attention to the mirror in uneasy interest, not even noticing himself loosely planting his palms on the windowsill to get a better vision at his reflection, him taking a curious gaze, lost in his own lime-green eyes that were intensely

staring

right

back

him.

#hidden not isolated c2 #hni c2 #hni #c2 #mcsm fanfic #mcsm fanfiction #mcsm #mcsm soren #hidden not isolated

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