Carrot Top 49- Stars and Constellations

Here we go! I’m getting excited for where this is going. I did give myself the feels with this chapter though. Chapter 48.Masterlist.

CW: Restraints, drugged whumpee, medical whump, knives, blood, some angst and grief and just general sad emotions.

- - -

Ursa Major- Orion- Scorpius. Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor- Leo- the Hercules constellation- that one was his favorite. It was complex, and sometimes hard to find, but it was beautiful.

He ran through the names of all the stars and constellations he could remember- trying hard to focus while his brain went fuzzy. He felt like he was floating- his vision black behind his eyes- so black he could nearly visualize specks and dots that he could pretend was the night sky.

His body lay suspended- in a terrifying artwork of chains and platforms- wires and tubes- drugs and fluids being pushed in and through his body, as the device running down his throat forced his lungs to continue to beat.

After probably half an hour the drugs had latched onto his system- dripping through in a slow and steady rhythm. It made him feel as if he was floating.

As if his body wasn’t his own- like it was separate from his mind and thoughts. The only good thing that came was that it dulled the pain that had been coursing fiercely through him prior to that moment. His ankles were a dull pulse- like the weight of your own tongue in your mouth. You know it’s there- but is instantly uncomfortable once you’re aware of it.

He barely twitched a finger anymore- barely attempted to wiggle a toe or flutter an eyelash.

He couldn’t sleep- something was stopping him from slipping into unconsciousness- but it was easier to keep his eyes closed.

And so- his mind raced with everything he could’ve imagined.

He couldn’t feel a thing across his body- but his mind was a whole other universe.

- - -

There was a warm hand brushing against his. A pinky finger- dark complexion, smooth, soft skin with black-painted nails. It rested over his, as if dipping a toe into the edge of a pool, testing the waters before diving in.

Fingers interlocked with his, palms touching- the smaller hand resting underneath his own.

There were no scars- no shake or tremble- or cramping up of severed muscles- just warmth on warmth.

A soft pair of lips- brushing against his knuckles and leading to the back of his palm.

A soft head of hair- brushing against the side of his face as it rested against his shoulder. The scent of coconut and lime shampoo- thick waves- the shiny color with darkened roots from faded hair dye.

He turned his head towards the other boy’s- their eyes meeting. His gaze was met with a smirk- that half turned corner of lip that sent his whole chest ablaze.

Andrew’s eyes shot open with a flash of shock- that fire had crept back into his chest- his lungs pounding against the strength of the machine.

He willed himself to calm down, which wasn’t difficult considering it was easier to lull his body into submission, than it was to fight.

He soon fell back into the rhythm and started to let his mind wander once more.

“So how do you like your new friend?”

His eyes shot back open- the beeping of the heart monitor getting faster as he saw the man approaching. He trailed his gaze once more to the ceiling as his body was forced back to a steady rhythm.

Splice glanced over the monitors- taking a few notes and comparisons on a stack of clipboards.

“It seems we’re fairly well-adjusted. We’ll move on to the next faze then.” Andrew’s eyes trailed over to the man. “I’m excited for this part.”

He stared towards the ceiling again- not liking the sound of where this was going- and then he felt himself rising in the air once more.

The tubes and wires followed with him- but there was a slight tug at the device and instruments down his throat as his head rose from the platform. It sent waves of fire down his throat and inside his chest before settling once more.

Andrew listened as the platforms were unscrewed from the floor and tossed aside- he was level with the man’s head- resting just above his shoulder and the ceiling maybe a foot or two above his face.

“Now I should let you know, everything I do is for a reason. It’s all carefully thought out- planned- prepared.” The man traced a hand around the edges of Andrew’s body as he spoke- sending goosebumps along his skin. “I just need to adjust some dosages of certain things here, and then we can get started.”

He could feel his skin starting to tingle- nerves lighting up as feeling came back into parts of his body. It wasn’t full awareness- but he was more keen on the throbbing of his ankles- the ache in his hips from the pressure of the chains- the jabbing in the back of his neck from the collar- all the little things that made him just slightly more miserable- but it wasn’t unbearable.

He had a feeling that was going to change very soon.

There was a small prick at the back of his neck, just right under the base of the collar. His eyes clenched tight- but there was no pain. Just the pressure of the tip of a knife piercing skin.

“Hmm- interesting.” Splice muttered. He stood underneath the boy, wiping the drop of blood away with a finger and brushing it off on his pants. “Well then, let’s continue.”

The knife once again pierced the same spot- and then proceeded to tear it’s way down the length of Andrew’s spine. Splice watched as the skin split- a ribbon of red welling up behind before dripping down in solemn thuds to the floor. He lifted the knife once the tip had reached the top of Andrew’s tailbone- right above the line where the metal band met the top of his shorts.

Andrew felt the warmth of his blood seeping across his skin- clinging to it before giving up and dropping to the floor. He had felt the pressure of it tearing through skin- but there was no pain.

Splice wiped off the edge of the knife on a sanitized rag, setting it down for a moment before checking the screens.

“Are you feeling any pain?” The man asked.

Andrew glanced towards him- unable to answer.

“Blink once for no- twice for yes.”

The boy thought for a moment. He felt the pressure- the coolness of the blade and the warmth of his blood- but he hadn’t really felt the pain. He could lie- maybe that would pause whatever experiment this was- but when had Splice cared about the pain he was in before? It wouldn’t change anything if he did.

He blinked once.

“Good. I’ll continue then.”

Andrew clenched his eyes as the tip of the blade pierced right underneath his shorts on the back of his thigh. There was the edge of a fresh welt right there, blossoming in a mountain against his skin- a thick band running down the middle from the belt that was used.

There was a little resistance- but Splice sighed with contentment as the skin gave and the knife carved through freely. It trailed down his thigh, behind his knee, and all the way to his ankles, right above the metal cuff.

Andrew stared back at the opposite side of the room. He wanted nothing to be a part of this. But unfortunately it was his body- though it wasn’t his choice to make.

Once the knife pierced the same spot on the other leg, he willed his mind to be absolutely anywhere but here.

- - -

His fingers ran absentmindedly through Micah’s hair as the boy’s head rested on his stomach. He stared up at his bedroom ceiling from the bed they were lying in, blankets hanging off the edge, pillows scattered about.

Andrew had woken up in a warm pile of limbs and fabric- an arm draped across his chest, a leg creeping atop of his, a soft face curling into the side of his neck.

He didn’t think asking the boy to spend the night would’ve worked- but it did. He didn’t expect it to feel so natural- or comforting or peaceful or- well, he had actually slept. Andrew stretched out with a yawn, feeling the cuts along his back from a few days prior and he winced- hoping they hadn’t torn open.

Micah’s eyes blinked up at him from where his head rested on the pillow.

“G-morning handsome-” he mumbled.

Andrew smiled.

He hadn’t smiled this much since he had come home. But something about the boy- about the glint in his hair- the softness of his skin- just looking at him made Andrew want to smile.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked. His voice was rough and low- still fighting back the sleep.

Micah nodded, humming to himself before propping up on his elbows, his head resting on his hand.

“Good- you’re very warm.”

Andrew blushed. He stared as the edge of the sweater Micah was wearing fell around his shoulder- exposing the soft skin of his collarbone- that was- that was his sweater.

His navy blue sweater with the too-long sleeves that he liked to roll up, with the knitted pattern that a grandma would make. He had found it at a thrift store for seven dollars. But now- now Micah was wearing it- and the navy blue matched his hair, though it wasn’t as shiny. The sleeves pooled far past his wrists and hung loose around his frame, and it was- gosh, Micah was-

Andrew turned his head away before he could continue staring much more than he already had. The boy had crawled his way over to Andrew’s stomach, resting his head there as they stared up at the ceiling.

At first Andrew’s breath caught in his throat- the pressure more sensitive as he remembered his injuries- all the damage- and the vulnerability that came- but Micah was different. Micah was always different- in a good way.

Andrew’s face tilted down to meet Micah’s as his eyes peeked up from underneath his hair. It was usually slicked back- styled neatly- but his bedhead created an adorable messy mop of unusual angles.

A gentle hand reached up, mindless fingers trailing along the edges of his face, brushing across his nose.

“I like your freckles.” Micah mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“They’re really pretty.”

Andrew couldn’t have blushed harder. Micah’s hand went back to rest on his stomach and he stared back upwards again, as if trying to visualize something from the paint patterns on the ceiling.

“They remind me of- of stars. Like constellations. When you’re far enough from the city that you can look in the sky and that’s all you see- and the harder you look the more you find and they just go on- and on- and it’s beautiful and-”

“I like the stars.” Was all that Andrew could think of to say.

- - -

Splice stepped back to look at his artwork. The boy had his eyes closed- neck leaned back- his pale, limp hair- (or what was left of it)- drooped to the ground. There were no freckles across his skin- they had faded away into the clammy white that was now his complexion.

It was no matter though- the freckles weren’t important. And frankly- the paler complexion looked beautiful in contrast to the stark red of the blood that was bursting through his skin.

Dark lines carved in patterns down his limbs. One ran down his spine- followed by several others crossing perpendicular- under his shoulderblades, across his hips, and right below his neck- creating a cross formation as the line continued down each of his arms, all the way through his palms. Two more carved down the backs of his legs towards his ankles- with some on the bottoms of his feet for good measure, and a few more across the backs of his thighs.

It was beautiful- carefully thought out and well-planned. And perfectly executed.

Not a vein- artery, or vital blood vessel had been nicked. Otherwise he’d bleed out to fast. The man didn’t need him to die- just to be drained of as much of himself as he could in order for the next phase of this experiment.

True, he could’ve drained his blood in a more, medical safe way, which he would be doing as well, but this was far more, aesthetically pleasing you could say.

The blood dripped to the floor in red ribbons, pooling down before running to the drain in rivers. It was beautiful- he really was a piece of artwork.

Splice lowered the boy slightly until he was resting on the platforms once more, and went back to check the levels of his vitals. He adjusted the dosage of some of the drugs he was on- he needed to have some level of feeling and pain- so that his mind could send the right signals to start repairing his body, and accept the new fluids he’d be given. But everything looked just as it should- the boy could lay undisturbed for a few hours as he bled out and be just fine in time for the new blood to be introduced.

“Ah, you are awake.” The man stated. “Don’t worry- I know you probably don’t feel good, but everything is going perfectly according to plan. I’ll be back in a few hours to continue the next phase. I’m excited for this one.”

The boy’s eyes darted about, trying to recollect everything that was going on but his brain was fuzzy and disoriented from the loss of blood and the heavy drugs.

He heard that same laughing as footsteps grew quieter.

“Don’t go anywhere.” The man stated- and Andrew was left alone once more.

He could barely feel anything. There was a warmth from underneath him- it seemed to be only down his back- along the underside of his legs and arms.

He could hear dripping- the wet thuds against the floor in steady rhythms all around him.

And then he remembered the knife, the cuts it made dragging through his skin- and he shuddered at thinking how he looked beneath the chains as his blood dripped to the floor.

He closed his eyes- feeling the steady rhythm of his lungs beating inside his chest as the air rushed through the tubes down his throat.

He saw spots behind his vision as his eyelids fluttered. Spots that danced in his mind- echoing of the stars- the constellations of the night sky.

The stars that-

“They remind me of stars.” He had said. “Of the constellations in the country sky- neverending and- and beautiful.”

His voice played through in his mind over and over and over and over again. He wished he could remember more conversations- more words of peace and comfort and joy and- and love.

And love-

He didn’t think he’d ever been or love- or he’d ever get the chance to be in love.

But that boy-

The way his mouth curled up to the side in a half-smirk or a smile, flashing a hint of teeth as his hair fell over his face. The way his hair brushed behind his piercings- flashing beautifully behind his ear and framing the features of his face.

His chest tightened but Andrew ignored it as the way the soft hands held him grew in his memory. The way they brushed through his hair- or down the sides of his face. The shape of that boy’s hand in his- and he-

Goodness, Andrew hadn’t even kissed the boy.

He had never kissed him- never seen what his lips felt like or got to feel that rush of adrenaline and joy as they held each other in passion- or shared all their secrets and bared their souls as they held each other close at night and-

Oh he wanted it.

Andrew had never felt like this before- never even thought it was a possibility.

But for a brief moment it was.

But now it would only be memories. The memories and the regrets and the things he never got to have or never got to do. His chest hurt- growing tighter and tighter as the pain and longing welled up inside of him. He clenched his eyes tight as the fire grew in his chest- his breath hiccuping in sobs from the pain and the loss. It was hard to allow his chest to fall back into rhythm as the grief overtook him. The boy was still there- still alive- and well- and healthy-

But Andrew would never get to hold him again- or look into those gorgeous, dark eyes- or hold his hand with the painted nails- or watch another movie cuddled up on the couch and-

And god did it hurt.

It hurt more than anything he had felt. More than being whipped- or burned- or cut open- or beaten because this, this wasn’t a wound that could be closed up in a few days or patch with bandages.

He knew that for the rest of his life- the rest of his time with this man- that was a wound that would never close.

Andrew loved that boy.

He knew that now. The knowledge of never seeing him again, or getting those opportunities- it all only made him love Micah even more.

But now it would have to be like the stories of those greek gods- Only existing as the memories of constellations in the night sky.

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@imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus,@burtlederp,@whump-me-all-night-long@lave-e@yesthisiswhump@myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19@brutal-nemesis​@lunaabsentee