Here's a weird one-shot that I came up with. Don't ask how I came up with it. Most of my fics come from me writing on my iPod when I'm bored.
Seriously, there must be something wrong with me. When I thought of the word "lights" I thought of surgical lights and everything just blah-ed out from there.
If there are any spelling errors, grammatical mistakes, etc., etc., please comment or message about it!
Lights
The room was bright.
Too bright.
So bright that Rin Okumura's eyeballs practically burned.
He couldn't see anything. He couldn't see the sharp, metal instruments, the surgeons awaiting near the walls, or the table fashioned with strong, leather belts. The light was just too much.
So he closed his eyes.
Bad choice.
The next thing he knew, Yukio's reassuring hands were lost from his shoulders, and he felt the rubber of surgical gloves against his arms. The loving warmth was replaced with harsh tugs and cold skin. His head bounced on the metal table, making him cry out in pain as they struggled to restrain his thrashing limbs.
The orders the surgeons had been given were simple.
Rin Okumura is to be used for research by the order of the Vatican. Study all inhuman characteristics of this specimen.
Rin Okumura is a feral, dangerous creature.
Rin Okumura is the son of Satan. Proceed with extreme caution.
Yukio tensed as he heard Rin's cry. He had betrayed his brother for the Vatican.
What did Rin think of him now?
Rin closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. What the hell was going on?
He looked to his left. What the hell were those tools?
To the right. What the hell did that doctor have in that syringe? What the ever-loving fuck was going on?!
The doctor, he looked like he was the one in charge, approached him slowly. The green liquid in the syringe swashed around and glinted maliciously in the bright light. Everything went ten times slower. Rin's eyes widened as the doctor gripped his arm and stretched it out, stabbing the needle into a protruding vein and pushing the plunger.
He felt the drug wash over him like a splash of cold water, except this made him groggy. He could barely keep his eyes open now. His thrashing had gone down considerably. He watched the blurry picture before him as the syringe was harshly pulled out, coated in his blood.
All too quickly, darkness came, and his body became limp on the table.
When he awoke, he felt the sting of new stitches all over his body and the worst part of a headache. The pain and confusion was so much that he wanted to puke. He could feel what little food was left in his stomach climb up his throat as he covered his mouth, twisting his head around for a trash can. Failing to find one, he did his best to swallow it down before pulling up the collar of his hospital gown. Pure disgust and surprise ran through his head as he looked at the numerous arcs and lines of stitches that held his skin together.
Oh God… what happened? Did I get into another fight? Did something happen to the others? Are they alright? Jesus Christ, it hurts so much! What the hell happened?!
He groaned in frustration and fell back onto the pillows. His eyes glared at the ceiling. It was pure white, and the built in florescent lights flickered.
The lights.
Suddenly, his eyes widened and he abruptly sat up.
The lights.
The surgeons.
The syringe.
He'd been belted to a table before they knocked him out. Why the hell did he have these stitches, then? Did they…? No… Yukio wouldn't dare let them…
Yukio wouldn't dare let them take him apart and put him back together like some toy car… right?
Just the thought of Yukio, his own dear brother, handing him over to the Vatican for the sake of demonic research made him want to vomit, to scream, to cry.
Despite his wounds, he forced himself out of the bed. Grabbing a random coat on a chair and pulling it on, he left the room. He wandered around, becoming aware of his surroundings as to make sure there weren't any doctors or nurses around. Soon, he found a bathroom, where he emptied the persistent bile from his system in a stall. He retched and retched until nothing else could be discarded.
The headache had gone away, but it left an unexpected tiredness. Feeling uneasy, he made his way over to a sink, splashing his face with cold water. The liquid did nothing but make him more tired.
Like that drug.
He felt his legs give out from under him and he fell to his knees, resting his forehead against the cold, smooth surface of the sink. His knuckles turned white as snow as he tightened his grip on the basin, refusing to give in to the blackness. Not again. He would never give in.
"Rin! RIN!"
His head snapped up as he heard voices call his name. Or was it just one voice? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure. He just wasn't sure.
"HEY, FLAMEHEAD! ANSWER US! YOU CAN'T JUST RUN OFF LIKE THAT!" Male voice. Flamehead. Probably – no, definitely – Ryuji.
"Shut up! You're probably scaring him away now!" Female voice. Commanding. Yep. That was Izumo.
"I think we should split up. We won't find him any faster if we travel in one big group. Konekomaru and Shiemi, go to the east hallway. Takara and Shura, the north hallway. Shima and Suguro, keep on going along this hallway. Izumo and I will go down the south hallway. Check every room, closet, even the bathrooms. Knock on doors that are marked with a red flag. Those are occupied. Oh, and Rin's room is on the east hallway, so check again to make sure he hasn't somehow already gotten back. Alright, let's go!" Male. Commanding, but with an actual air of superiority and maturity. It was the voice that he'd heard all his life. It was Yukio.
He bit his lip. What was he supposed to do now? Wait for them to find him? Wait for a scolding from the whole group? Wait for them to drag him back into the bed? Wait for them to lock the door and belt him to the bed, making sure that he didn't run away again?
What the hell do I do?
But his thinking was cut short as a blotch of dark red appeared on his shirt. The stitches were tearing apart. The blotch blossomed, spreading all over the white clothing he wore. Placing a hand on his abdomen, he tried to stop the bleeding, but with so many stitches, he couldn't directly find the source of blood. There seemed to be multiple tears.
I can't die here… not yet…
Not just yet.
They found Rin laying in a pool of his own blood.