He takes such great care with your wounds. Hands trembling ever so slightly, but his touch is so gentle, even when applying the salve that stings and gauze that sticks. The wraps are secure, not uncomfortably tight, not too loose to hold. And his eyes, a shadowed sage lined in black watch you always for any hint of distress.
It's touching.
It's nice.
It's way more than you deserve.
You have been purified, reborn. You should have shed your past, and yet you feel so damn guilty. You couldn't even do that right. But the words, the truth won't spill from your mouth. You can't tell him. Out of the chamber, you are allowed the medicine that takes away your pain. It gives you euphoria and numbs the thoughts, quells them until you've cleared it from your system through your slumber and awaken to their haunting echoes once again. It's a cycle yet, you crave it... Right now, you know you'd break without it.
Your heart aches.
Your eyes burn.
You smile for him. It's not the full, toothy type that reaches your eyes, but even still... he's not smiling back anymore.
Shit.
"You're hiding something." God, his gaze is intense. Enough to make you feel much smaller than you actually are. Where are your words? Your thoughts?
Silence and self-frustration are all you are able to manage on the spot. You huff nasally and manage to tear your stare away from his own.
So soon, and you've already disappointed him. He's been waiting on you, treating you like royalty and here you are hanging onto your past and letting yourself ruin this... Whatever it is.
You craved company, needed skinship more than you even thought you did, wanted to get away from the boredom and escape the hardships of finding a job and someplace to live. He's handed you all these things on a silver platter. You have his presence, his undivided attention... he's giving you all that he can...
Why can't you just enjoy it?
Why can't you just allow yourself this much?
It's because you're a liar.
A con artist.
A sham.
Who are you supposed to be right now? Laid back, enjoying the miracle drugged water and cracking jokes? Should you be asking him questions about this cult? Should you be asking Mr. Unknown about himself? Should you be asking about the Savior?
Which fucking 'you' should you be?!
Should you just be quiet and go with the flow? Ask about what is expected of you? Should you be more serious, more attentive? Should you really be sitting here doing absolutely nothing?
You feel so useless; ARE so useless...
You came to be his assistant, right? Why aren't you assisting him? Why is it that he's acting like your slave and you are letting him?
You're doing it all wrong.
Of course you'd fuck this all up. You can't even answer him when he speaks to you. Instead, you bury your blank gaze on a pile of pillows, absently watching the dancing lights as they flicker in muted greys and blues and lit blacks that are just shy of being purple.
"Just a guess, but... You don't have to forget, you know?" Your ear perks at his solemn sound; it's knowing, experienced and laced with a dull ache that forces you to turn your head back. "We all have our reasons. Here in Eden, we live in peace with each other with a purpose. We have goals, some... have vendettas, but here is a place where we can be together with others just like us. Sinners purified by the watcher of Mint Eye, absolved of all impurities the moment we confess our dealings to our merciful Savior.
She takes all our contaminations onto herself, listens and grants forgiveness to all. Conversing with God in a way that only she can. You were purified to find out who you truly are and what your purpose is. Your past won't go away, but you have been cleansed of all the indiscretions from it." Rubbing at his temples, you catch a glimpse of the thin sheen of sweat breaking out along his forehead, his skin looks so pale. His shaking is only getting worse.
Spotting the black-tinted bottle on the sheet to your side, you reach for it. Among tremors of your own, you manage to grab it and hand it to the disciple, trying your damnedest to keep it steady.
"Thanks." You muster feebly, as he takes the load from your palm. No longer is he looking at you. He's looking through you; immersed in his own mind even as he drinks and slips the bottle back towards you.
Sipping, you allow your own dose to slide down your throat; bitterness tamed with a dash of honey. You keep stealing glances, can't help it.
It's easier to breathe now that the pounding and thoughts have been muted. You want to take more of the medicine... truthfully you'd bathe in the stuff if you could.
You stifle that stupid urge, opting to settle into the mass of cushions and blankets.
"Hey, ... ummm,... disciple?" His head tilts a little and he hums at you vacantly in question, you can tell he's still thinking but then again, he is all you are seeing at the moment; trapped in this pleasant bubble and masked from the outside world. "Will... will you lay down with me?"
You want him in the present, here with you. Knowing you sound whiny right now with your scratchy throat and broken pitch, you still couldn't care less. The cool liquid sloshing in your belly is steadily warming your limbs and nape, fogging your brain in the most pleasant of ways. It settles your nerves and frees you enough to speak your thoughts. He's here with you, so you want him really, REALLY here. Those unfocused eyes are staring deadset straight into the past and you want to know... you're curious...
Who is he, behind 'Unknown" and the disciple?
You gasp, blinking away your inner monologue and finally realize you're staring right at him and he's staring right back at you. Already neat and tucked up with a hand beneath his cheek and a smirk on his face.
Your cheeks grow hot enough to start a fire and he chuckles at you.
This is nice.
Your heart beats in slow pumps with a dull ache of memories you can remember but cant actually recall at the moment.
"I want to uh, know more about you... Umm..." Stumbling over your words because speech is difficult when you can focus and even more so when you can't, you bite at your lip and continue as best you can, "Would you-W- Would you mind telling me?"
"What do you want to know, lamb... You're going to need to be more specific if you want answers~." This little shit is enjoying your stutter-show. Turning his laugh into his own hand and then back at you as if trying to hide it. You don't care that he's poking fun, only glad that his eyes have softened and his smile is back.
"Dick." You stick your tongue out at him and try to stifle your own goofy giggle while maintaining a stern facade... which is terrible, by the way. "What's your... your... um... name? Y-your favorite um... color...? Tell me a-about yourself... Please?"
That smile fades a bit as his gaze darkens.
Shit.
"You want to call me by my name, huh? Well, what should I say?" He laughs under his breath but it holds no real humor. "You could just keep calling me 'Unknown,' or 'Mr. Disciple Sir,'" he mimics your calls from previous times, shooting you a wink." Ahh~, but really I am nothing, no one. Not even supposed to exist. Saeran~... Saeran is dead... both dead AND waiting to die~." Musing to himself, he hums, letting the sentiment waft about in the still air.
"Saeran?" He stops, those sage pools once again on you, pink slightly painting the bridge of his nose and mouth hung in a small 'o.' "I-I'm sorry, if you ahhh, if you don't want me to uh, call you that I won't. S-Sorry!" You bite your lip again, clenching your lids shut because you're sure you've done eff'd up.
"N-Nah... You're... You're okay. I... I don't mind?" His brows pinch, clearly confused. Clearing his throat, he answers the other question quickly. "And... it's red."
You flinch a little. It's automatic, habitual; the flashes still raw even in your cloudy mind and he cocks his head into the pillows.
"What's wrong?"
Oh boy. You don't want to tell him, but you do at the same time. And before you can attempt to mull it over, your mouth is already stumbling over all the things you've recently re-lived.
It's all too fresh to ignore.