Miracles. Wonders, marvels, sensations, phenomenons... Whatever you wanted to call them. Theyʼd never been widely believed to exist. Never has the general population been too keen on the thoughts of magic- which is essentially what a miracle consists of. Anything supernatural... Any blessings or any luck outs were viewed as a coincidence. A well-timed, very convenient coincidence. And honestly, Gilbert had never been one to believe in them either. Heʼd thought that those who did were fools- idiots, if you will. Miracles only existed in fairytales and that was that. Same went for happy endings.
They simply did not exist.
It was tragic, really, that people were so pessimistic. So reluctant to believe the extramundane. Reluctant to believe the otherworldly and reluctant to have dreams and aspirations. Everyone was so caught up in the boring world of today that they had no time to believe in wizardry.
Only the children.
The children were not yet corrupt. They still had a chance to bring the society back up and onto its feet, allowing people to per-sue their hopes and dreams and not dismiss them like trash. Able to believe in the beauty surrounding them. That is why, when the most beautiful eyes Gilbert had ever seen showed themselves, he found his expression turning into one of unfathomable disbelieve. His hand became cold on the glass of the tube, staring directly in those half-lidded violet eyes and drowning in their depths. His breath hitched in his throat and he went temporarily deaf to the world around him. Finally, Gilbert found himself believing in miracles.
It was the most beautiful- no, /stunning/ thing heʼd ever seen, this strange yellow-haired boy. He imagined himself speaking to this being, hearing of many secrets of the world while listening to a voice so melodic it rivals the sound of the universe. He imagined himself holding this boy close and being able to call him his. That was when Gilbert realized he had fallen in love with the boy just upon seeing him. It was bizarre. It wasnʼt how he imagined love to feel like. The albino had imagined love to feel like a miracle would, believing himself and the world around him incapable of ever feeling it because thatʼs just the way miracles were. Nonexistent. Now, however, that he believed phenomenons to be real, he felt disappointed. Love should feel like butterflies in your stomach when just seeing the other person, it should be his cheeks heating up and his palms sweating as well as his heart beating horribly fast. As the touched the glass though, he deduced that love was none of that idiocy. It was when your entire body goes cold, your ears incapable of hearing and your mind racing with thoughts. It had to be! What else could he possibly be feeling for this boy? His thoughts, however, were put to an abrupt halt. His head pounding as it slammed into the glass, leaving the tiniest ( but very obvious ) of cracks. He slid to the floor and everything went black.
The cold metallic floor, sticky with blood was not the best place to awaken from a ʻnapʼ, Gil decided as he shakily tried to move. First came his eyelids, forcing them open, the albino was content to know that it was still sufficiently dark in the room, making it so that it wouldnʼt be too painful to look around. Being knocked out as well as being an albino was not a good combo when it came to having to see through many lights when he woke. Next came his arms. He raised himself up using them, looking around blearily as the world spun below him.
Finally came his legs and soon he was standing, though leaning heavily on the large tube behind him. He stared down at the floor, his vision finally steadying and was absolutely horrified to see the amount of burgundy. As if on cue, he felt more of the sticky liquid sliding down his temple and chin, landing with a dull thud on the floor. He stared for a moment before raising a hand slowly to touch his hair, only to feel more blood and recoil. Looking back up from the floor, he noticed the shoes of another before him, and then Doctor Bradley came into sight.
Quivering breaths and feeling woozy, Gilbert strained to create a coherent sentence. "What... Why w-would you?..." was all he managed, his mouth continuously moving with no words coming out. The man advanced at an almost leisurely pace, flipping a sharp tool around in his hands. His smile was haunting and wicked, one of the most horrifying Gilbert had ever seen. It almost match the monstrosity that was Adolf Hitlerʼs ʻsmileʼ. "Because, young, foolish Gilbert Beilschmidt, you defied orders." He advanced more quickly, his face now an inch away from the albinoʼs. Their hot breaths intermingled uncomfortably, and neither paid any attention to the curious boy behind them.
"Youʼve seen something- or should I say /someone/ you shouldnʼt have and now, you have two options." A large and clammy hand found Gilbertʼs throat, causing the latter to raise his head as instinct. "I could wipe your memory, or I could kill you." Gil said nothing, only narrowing his eyes and trying not to betray himself by showing the terror within. He summed up all his courage and spat directly into Bradleyʼs face, causing the man to snarl and wipe it off furiously. "Good. The latter appealed to me more anyway!" Quick as lightening, the Doctor struck, but Gilbert was much more sly. He slipped out of the manʼs loosened grasp just in time, and as a result, Bradley hit an unsecured tube. Yellow fluid spewed everywhere, drenching the two. It wasnʼt toxic, thank god, but essential to the progression of the blond boy. "No! No no no! MA2... MA2... Itʼs over, itʼs all over!" Bradley continued to ramble, crazed with absolute fury before turning on Gil, who was now laying on the floor in pain. He sprinted forward, intending to strangle the albino when suddenly glass was flying everywhere.
Blue goo splattered everything within sight and chunks of machinery were throw around. Gilbert couldnʼt see, his eyes forcing him to go temporarily blind and he screamed. He covered his head, hoping not to cause more damaged until the horrible sound of shattering glass had ended. He unclenched his eyes and frighteningly looked up, only to be petrified at the sight of a crumpled and barely recognizable body... The only thing he could tell was that the victim had black hair... Bradley. He continued to stare, too utterly terrified to even move as blood continued to pour from his wound.
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