Cleo had always had a certain innocence about him. It wasn't that he didn't understand, or didn't see the more mature meanings of other peoples' words, it was more that he had a child-like reaction to them. There'd be a light flush of red upon his cheeks if anyone questioned him about his bed habits, or anyone decided to dish out the dirt about their own. Gore freaked him out and violence wasn't exactly a favourite pass-time of his. Though others may laugh about it, he'd always feel safer if there was at least one light in the room turned on. It was how he was. Even with his more rebellious days, this side of Cleo had always been there, lurking beneath the surface.It was probably what made his ability's development all the more unfair.
The male's eyes clenched together as he stumbled through the hallway, fingers attempting to grasp at something, anything, that could guide him back to his dorm. The cool plaster felt nice against his skin, but it brought no comfort to his nerves, nor did it give him any indication that he was closer to his destination. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling at an unsteady rate whilst his eyelids remained tightly closed, protecting his green irises from whatever it was that he didn't want to see. But it was still there, in his head.. an image that he debated was maybe formed by some cruel part of his imagination, or the result of a twisted person's mind games.
Cleo had never been faced with the long-term effects of death. His ability was one that allowed him to defy that aspect of life, at least a certain number of times. He'd frequently joked that he would always be one up on a cat because he got ten lives instead of nine. It was probably with slight irony that his latest near-death experience probably could have been avoided had he always been able to land on his feet. But today.. today had decided to dredge something up and drown his usual happy self whilst draining every inch of warmth from his cells.
It was out of the corner of his eye that he first noticed it. Something off - not quite right as a girl a couple of years below him had skipped on passed him down the corridor. He'd thought nothing of it to begin with, his thoughts instantly settling on the conclusion that he really needed to sleep more. But the further he walked, the more he noticed, the more the slight hints his peripheral vision was giving him began to creep further into his view.
There was a young man walking probably eight or nine steps ahead of him, his clothing consisting of the typical school uniform, the usual blazer absent and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Cleo wasn't entirely sure what brought his attention to it first, but as his gaze skimmed over the male's back, he noticed his arm.. The skin was grey and peeling, a certain absence of flesh in various areas to reveal the dirty white of bone. Around the rotting wounds settled dried patches of blood, some appearing smeared whilst others more spattered. The simple sight made Cleo's eyes widen, his feet stopping in their tracks as he couldn't help but stare, unable to believe just what it was he was seeing.
And that was when someone else walked down the corridor towards him, their features mimicking the appearance of the other student's arm. Cheeks were worn, the girl's hair appearing as lifeless as her eyes. Those eyes.. the hollow grey that stared absently ahead, ignoring the young male staring after her, fear obviously striking his heart.
Blinking frantically, Cleo rubbed his palms against his eyelids, head shaking slightly as if it was all just some weird trick of the light. As he allowed his eyes to open, the vision before him shocked him to the very core, confusion rushing as strongly through his veins as his heart was currently beating. The palms of his hands were decayed, skin peeling though not enough to shed, his fingers thin to the point there seemed almost nothing to them. His arms were of a similar shade to the others', though they appeared more aged and worn, lacking the red-tinted stain across the flesh.
His heart was racing. He didn't know what was happening to him. Cleo tore his gaze away from his own form, abruptly turning around, hoping to maybe see someone chuckling in the corner, amused by their own little trick. Or hoping to see someone normal, someone familiar that looked like they did every single day. Without really thinking about it, his feet began to carry him down the hallway, pupils frantically flicking about the walls surrounding him, confusion and fear being the only two emotions to really register behind those eyes of his. Voices could be heard at the end of the corridor, as could the bustling of students as they set about their usual business. The closer he got to the noises, the more he came to dread the sight that could lay ahead of him. He couldn't take it, his fear warning him to turn back, to run away from the sights that could lay ahead.
That was the moment that he felt something touch against his shoulder, a hand reaching out, grasping a light hold of his upper arm. With a start, the teen jumped, his heart skipping a beat whilst his body wildly flung itself to turn and face whoever it was that had grabbed him.
"Hey, dude, you okay?"
Cleo's blood ran cold, eyes widening even further in horror, stinging with fearful tears. The boy in front of him didn't look like your average male. Blisters marked his skin from top to toe, his flesh peeling much to the extent of the others'. His eyes, though his features would suggest showed concern, appeared hollow, cold. Dead. Thinning tufts of dark hair lingered upon his scalp, clinging to the decaying epidermis, determined to remain in place.
Within seconds, Cleo was running. He didn't care where he went, as long as he could get away. He didn't know what was happening to him, why his vision had suddenly turned against him, forcing him to be haunted by images of what he had just seen. That was why he ended up in the corridor to the boys' dorms, eyelids clenched shut to the point it could have probably been painful. Tears were readily streaming down his cheeks now, his breaths ragged and mouth hanging open, gulping in the air as quickly as it was escaping him. He'd never been so scared, so uncertain.
As difficult as it was, the male counted along each door that he passed, attempting to find his own without having to expose his irises to anything other than behind his eyelids. Fingers felt about for a number upon each door, relief only hitting him when he finally found the one he was looking for, his forehead touching against the wooden frame. It didn't take long for him to unlock the door, his legs rushing to carry him in, hands shoving the door in an attempt to close it as he stepped further into the room. His shoulders shook, fingers raising to brush through his hair, remaining at the back of his cranium for a moment before dropping down to his sides. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, why it was happening to him. Sinking to his knees, he knelt upon the ground, curling forwards until his forehead touched the carpet. Even then, he didn't open his eyes. Even then, all on his own, he dared not to.
-to be continued-
