Preston walked onto campus. His skin felt as though he was full of needles and his body felt heavy. His feet shuffled like they were full of lead as he hobbled inside. He simply wanted to see the place. He hadn't been going out at all in the past few months, so despite his doctor's wishes, he pressed onward.
The man's chest was full of fresh stitches as he was supposed to be recovering from surgery. He had to get more shards removed. They had started growing inward, piercing his organs. Regardless, he masked his pain and discomfort and walked forward as if it were his only chance to see sunlight again.
He couldn't walk for much longer. Soon, he had to take a seat on a bench and rest for a moment. Poor Preston was panting, swallowing in cold air that made his lungs hurt, but the ache was fortunately distinguishable from the pain of being stabbed. The man really needed to get inside, but he was far too tired. Perhaps when he regains his strength, he should just go home.
"Preston?" called a familiar voice—one that immediately captured the Omid's attention. Upon looking up, Preston locked eyes with a young man with brown hair parted to the left, and green eyes dressed in a hoodie. Upon setting his sights on the sickly gentleman, Daniel grinned, immediately making his way toward his friend.
"Preston! Man, I haven't seen you in forever!" the Westley declared, excitedly walking over and taking a seat on the bench. "How have you been?"
While Preston was almost ecstatic to finally see one of his friends again, his smile wavered and almost dropped completely at the question. There was no good answer. Thus, the Omid lied.
"I've been doing fine. My therapist has been saying that I've been getting better." He said, maintaining a smile. Daniel believed its legitimacy with ease, grinning back.
"That's great!" the other man declared, a rush of relief washing over him. "We've all been really worried about you. Are you back in school?"
"No, not yet." He lied again. In reality, he had no intention of returning. "I just wanted to see the place."
"I get you." The brunet replied. "Sometimes you just wanna do things. I'm glad you did."
"Why's that?"
"Because you've never really been the type." Daniel answered. "You've always been too scared to do things, or think that they were pointless. Perspectives change, though, right?"
"Yeah…" the Omid said back. There was just a twinge of sadness in his voice, but it shockingly didn't go unnoticed by Daniel. The brunet's face donned a concerned expression at the sound, his brow furrowing a bit as he looked the other man over.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, placing a hand on Preston's shoulder. "If there's anything bothering you, you can talk to me about it, if you want. I won't blab to the others, I promise."
"Thanks, but I don't think that will do much good, I'm afraid." Preston admitted. His own face visage scrunched together as it started to get hard to breathe. This cold air was not doing him any favours.
"I need to get inside." He said, gripping his cane and attempting to stand. "It's too cold for me to stand, much longer." It was then that the Westley stood up, extending an arm out to him.
"Lemme help." Daniel insisted, waiting patiently for the other to either deny or accept his offer. Without hesitation, Preston took his hand, assisting the man by pulling himself up, aided with the combined force of Daniel's pull. He stood up, almost immediately doubling over again. Oh no…
"Urgh…" grunted the Omid, ripping his hand away from the other man in order to grip his chest. His breath came out rapidly in thick steam; his skin was hot to the touch, and he had begun to sweat, despite the temperature of his surroundings.
"Shit, are you okay?!" worriedly questioned his friend, immediately moving to help the poor man. After a few moments, the pain weakened, and Preston was able to regain his composure.
"I'm fine." He said, attempting to straighten himself. "It's just the cold, is all. I need to get inside."
"Lemme help you. I've still got a few minutes before class."
"It's alright. I can handle it."
"Are you sure?" Daniel asked, worry still prominent on his face. "It's no trouble at all…"
"It's fine!" Preston snapped, shaking the brunet's hand away. His brow furrowed, his teeth were bared, and he glared at the other man from where he stood, his face immediately softening upon seeing the startled expression on Daniel's face.
"I'm sorry…" the Omid said, not entirely sure as to why he was so angry. "I just… I want to be by myself for a bit, if that's alright… It was nice seeing you again…"
With that, Preston hastily made his way toward the nearest building, hobbling as fast as he could without falling. For a moment, Daniel debated on going after him, but in his experience, this has often backfired for him. His friend quickly made it inside, shuddering as the warm air hit him. He quickly sought out the first bathroom he could possibly find, and once there, he clumsily shuffled into one of the stalls and slammed the door behind him. Then, he dropped to his knees and started coughing.
Blood his the inside of the bowl. It was a lot more than last time. Preston stayed frozen for a moment, simply staring as the red fanned out into lighter hues as it mixed with dirty water. To say that he was in a state of shock would be accurate. His mind couldn't seem to wrap his head around what was happening, despite the fact that the answer was right in front of him.
He remained in that spot for ages, trying to snap himself from his stupor. An hour passed, and then two. People came into the bathroom and went, none the wiser to the sickly man. Preston sat up, leaning the back of his head against the door. He wasn't in any pain. His body was numb, as was his mind. Preston's eyes closed and his brow furrowed as he tried to focus enough to think of what to do next.
Then, the door opened. The man fell backwards, now laying on his back on the restroom floor. Slowly, his eyes opened again and he looked up do see a very peculiar person standing over him with an amused grin.
They seemed much too young to be attending college, and their presence made the Omid uneasy. It could have just been their appearance, with their lack of eyebrows and wearing of dark colours, but something seemed very dangerous about them. Those crimson eyes of theirs conveyed that to him.
"Isn't blood in the toilet more of a girl thing?" they laughed, poking fun at the Omid's predicament. Despite this, he was too tired and too scared to move. He didn't speak either, much to the apparent disappointment of the other. With a pout, they continued.
"You're no fun…" spoke the browless individual. "I'm just playing with you. You seem like an interesting guy."
"Who are you?" Preston finally forced out in a weak voice. To that, the stranger's grin returned.
"I'll tell you, if you tell me." They said. "Who are you? Or rather, what?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because I've never seen someone like you, before, and I want to know." They informed. "Now, are you going to tell me willingly, or am I going to have to resort to doing something nasty?"
