Inhaling had never felt so agonizing to him before. His lungs seemed to clench and wither every time a gust of air whirled down them, giving him life.
He guessed the term, 'as sick as a dog' could apply correctly here, for that's how he would describe himself, if he were in someone else's shoes.
The instrument in his mouth was suddenly removed, being now held delicately in a man's fingers. His blue eyes were gazing mournfully down at the number that he had dreaded sight of.
"What is it?"
He looked up, face looking older and more worn with worry. "106. If this fever keeps up…"
"No! Absolutely not!" a man of no older than 19 snapped, his face scowling, but his eyes told a story of worry. "That isn't going to happen! He'll be fine!"
"U-Unless he starts to see hallucinations," a quieter one spoke from his eat, clutching his bear tightly to his chest. His twin eyed him, his jaw set.
"He won't! Besides, he already see's that flying mint bunny! What else could he possibly see?" he insisted.
"Matthew, Alfred," the older of the trio piped up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hush for a just a minute, s'il vous plait."
Matthew, fully understanding the plea, nodded his head once. He looked at the sickened man laying in the bed. His breathing was jagged, sounding as if had hurt. He winced, deciding not to even look at him. He looked towards Alfred, who was pacing silently.
Things weren't looking well.
The sickly man Matthew had been looking at was conscious, to his own amazement. He knew he would drift off however, in fact, almost any second.
It could be worth it…
…
And then everything was black.
He was nudged awake. More or so forcefully.
Groaning, emerald eyes opened, only to see an array of unique looking plants. Such as a flower a shade of azalea, but with tulip and tiger lily petals, the stamen's large and bold. He had never seen such a flower…
But then again, he didn't recognize any of this vegetation… There were trees with snake's patterns on it's bark, but, they weren't carved in. Large leaves had tiger stripes, the stripes lighter than the leaves colors themselves. Flowers were large in vibrant, looking as though they were splattered with paint. The vines were tangled within each other, looking like a battle as they were hung into the tree's branches.
"Well… You woke up, finally."
Eyes widening, he fell into alert mode. He rolled over, clambering to his feet, and looking around for the owner of the voice.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt ya'."
The Brit caught sight of him. He was sitting in a branch, up against the tree, a cigarette to his lips; smoke coming from the small tube. He narrowed his green eyes at the unknown man, pulling his lips back slightly, baring his teeth a little.
"Who are you?" he shouted, his voice, surprisingly, was firm and demanding.
The stranger cocked an eyebrow, his scar across his brow now noticeable. He flicked the ashes off his cigarette, watching as they fell to a ground and onto a flowers petals; which they withered to death. He looked towards the blonde, blinking his long eyelashes that framed his green eyes. "My name is not much of a concern to you," he mumbled almost unintelligible. "What's more important, is probably where you are, is that not so?"
The blonde, suddenly feeling as though he were a dolt, looked around once more at the breathtaking forest. The stranger, as much as he loathed to admit it, was correct.
"…You are smart, for a stranger."
"And you are naïve."
He glowered. "I never asked for a response," he muttered bitterly.
"I know," the man jumped from the tree, landing on his feet with skillful ease. "But you got one without needing to ask for it. Isn't that what most want?"
"I don't like you."
"It seems we've gotten off on the wrong foot," he mumbled, rubbing his chin with his white gloved hand. "But, it's better me than her. So you, stranger," he appointed his direction back towards the blonde. "What are you addressed as?"
The younger male, feeling quite skeptical, was a bit unwilling to just give out his name. But he ignored his gut. "I'm Arthur."
The brunette's eyes glittered slightly. "How intriguing."
"And who are you?" Arthur asked.
"They call me Abel," he shrugged his broad shoulders. Arthur's eyes went wide.
"Wait… Abel? Is that… Abel?" he bit his lip, taking a step closer. He looked so much like the familiar Dutchman, now that he was paying attention. He had the scar, he smoked, he was the same height, same gelled hair for Christ's sakes!"
Abel cocked an eyebrow. "I think you're mistaken. I haven't ever seen you before in my life…"
Arthur stared at him, utterly speechless with confusion. If he wasn't Abel… then why did he look like him? He admitted he didn't quite act like him; definitely much more talkative. But the similarities…
In the distance, a bell bonged; it's sound a bit haunting. Abel looked up, taking his cigarette in his mouth and flicking the ashes off again before discarding it. He mumbled something, possibly in another language. He looked towards Arthur who was staring at him.
"Abel," Arthur spoke, his voice low. His question came quickly, almost instinctively. "Where am I?"
The brunette began to walk. Arthur followed. It was a bit of a long moment before the familiar man had decided to speak. "We call this place Nirvana."
"Nirvana…?"
"Strange, I know. The red-eyed mad man came up with it, screaming it to the heaven's. I never paid much attention to him… but everyone began to call this land that. And so, it stuck."
The Brit pondered that. Then he stopped. Abel looked over his shoulder at him, stopping in his tracks as well. Arthur looked at him, slightly angered, but that was probably spawned by his confusion. "So, if this blasted place is called 'Nirvana', where is where I am from? Huh? Where is Francis? And Matthew? And Alfred? And… why aren't I sick?"
Abel cocked an eyebrow again. "I don't know… but honestly, I don't care."
And like that, Arthur felt his world crumble.
