Mirror [Reverse AU] [Completed]

Chapter 19


The albino’s teeth pursed his bottom lip, piercing the skin and drawing blood. The metallic taste reached to his tongue, forcing his instinct to dispose of the liquid from his mouth. His palm dug into the crevice of the metal floor, cutting into his skin, threatening to harm his calloused hands. His cheeks had swollen, blood trickling down his chin, but it wasn’t from his injured lip.

His abdomen throbbed in dull pain, a kind that he would only feel afterwards. The floor he was sitting on seemed to sway under him, like a portal opening that would swallow him whole into a world of distortion. His once pristine skin was threaded with bruises and wounds, red and purple decorating his pale skin like a tapestry.

As his vision danced within spaces of black patches, his body slackened, his fists uncurling and muscles untensing. His bloodied white bangs fell over his eyes, the world of metal and blood before him obscured in strings of ruby and silver. His eyes mulled over, and visions strung in his sight like images in a flowing river.

He saw them—bathed in the sunrise’s aura, faces misted over, their fingers laced between, murky shadows cast over the emerald fields. Both their arms were extended outwards, their palms facing him, fingers calloused and soft, calling out to him in a serene, silent composure. He was no longer in the metal room. He was kneeling in the fertile soil, wounds closing as warm wind brushed against his figure.

They walked closer to him, their hands within an arm’s grasp. All he had to do was take them. The shadow they cast billowed behind them, his shadow darkening the grass between them.

They stepped closer, and his shadow was breathed on her silky cornflower dress that billowed in the wind. The paradise behind them faded into sand, leaving the world bleached, with only the darkness of their shadows.

Lip slightly ajar, his chin lifted, eyes trailing to their faces. Their features were foggy, with flashes of a nose or lip materializing through the bog. His eyes narrowed, focusing severely on their faces, and the fog cleared at once as the air turned frosty, blowing the mist from their appearances.

His breath hitched, his nails digging into his palms as he nearly recoiled in shock. His body tensed, dread prickling his spine.

They had no face at all.

A primal scream tore the illusion apart, their bodies burning in black flames as the white shattered into reality. As the false world’s final pieces shattered, his body lurched sideways, his sides collapsing onto the unforgiving, undeniably hard, cold metal floor, the entire mirage occurring before his head rolled onto the ground, the unmistakable silhouette of his tormentor lording over him, awaiting for his consciousness to return.

* * *

“You know you can’t keep me captive,” Reverse fumed, feet dangling from the bed. His ribs were wrapped in bandages as well as his neck, forehead and limbs. The mattress creaked as he shifted positions, the pillow tumbling off the sheets and onto the carpet.

Grinding his teeth, he supported his upper body with his arms, biting his lip and resisting the pain and sedatives. He blew his caramel hair from his eyes, stretching his feet towards the ground. A wave of pain crashed into his nervous system, almost knocking himself off his feet. Slowly, he removed hold of the bed, and tried to minimize movements.

As soon as he attempted his first step, his chest exploded into a world of torture and agony, the bones inside shattered and floating within his organs. He gasped in surprise rather than pain, his legs giving out.

Twin shadow tendrils caught him before he fell, the shadow creations hoisting him to his bed carefully.

Reverse growled, enraged. “Let me go! What’s your deal? Isn’t Boboiboy supposed to be your friend?”

Fang barely glanced up from his book. The couch he was occupying formed crinkles on his occupancy, the leather squeaking as his armour strap creased against it. His legs were placed high on the coffee table, barely expressing any emotion as he rubbed his eyes.

The brunette released an exasperated sigh and threw his hands into the air, causing pain to course through his arms. The bandages pressed against his skin, his legs soon to be in a cast. The bed creaked under his sudden movements, the pillow replaced on the mattress by the shadows.

“Boboiboy was right to kill your brother,” Reverse growled. “You two are one in the same. Heartless, betraying monsters.”

Fang’s dark pink eyes slid up, and accessed the defenceless, powerless, severely wounded human that had threatened him. Nestling his shoulders further into the couch for comfort, he shrugged and flipped pages in his novel, unwilling to engage in a conversation.

“Say something, fucking dammit!” Reverse scorched. “You’re the reason why Boboiboy died in the first place. Now you’re letting him die again?”

The ravenette exhaled through his nose, his hands moving around the cover of the book as he closed it, the papers creating a tiny gust of wind that brushed his nose. He placed the book on the table next to him, the table clinking as the object was placed. Fang laced his fingers on his abdomen, legs crossing on the glass coffee table as he stared dead into Reverse’s eyes.

His lips parted, but all that exited was air. They pressed together, forming a thin line., the rest of his face neutral.

“I promised to be his hero and to help him whenever I can,” Fang said, monotone. “He wanted this. I brought you to the hospital so you can live. That’s what he wants.”

“Yeah. About that, stay out of this. He’s my brother, not yours,” Reverse spat. “Keep out of our business. I’m saving my brother. You wouldn’t know. It’s called being there for him—something that rebel captain never done for you, huh?”

Fang’s expression did not waver. His fingers drummed along the back of his palms, his eyes still staring at him emotionlessly, posture alike his deceased sibling.

Reverse scoffed, cursing him and himself. He decided that he would wait for the right time. Careful to avoid any major internal wounds, he turned towards the bed. With a yank, he pulled the white blanket over himself, the sheets covering up to his neck.

I’m coming.

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