292Story's not over yet! Here's a preview of the next installment for our favorite thief:
An Illusion of Control — Coming Soon!
Disclaimer: I have not kept up with the show, but I loved this storyline too much to fully drop it. Therefore, expect this to be fully non-cannon going forward. I also make no promises on my posting consistency. Enjoy~
Pain shot through Luna's skull as she opened her eyes to blinding white walls. She hissed and pulled up an arm to block out the offensive lighting, or tried to, at least. Her limbs were simultaneously weighted and far-too-loose for her liking, as if her bones had been swapped out for jelly. A dull ache thrummed through her body like a day-old bruise. She groaned.
Something shifted beside her, and a hoarse whisper spoke her name, though it barely registered over the incessant beeping above her head. A hand took hold of hers, its thumb tracing a gentle line over her knuckles. Luna screwed her eyes shut again. It was too much. Too much noise, too much light. What she wouldn't give to sink back down into oblivion, but her mind wouldn't let her. It, instead, reminded her of another time she'd woken up to beeps and bright lights. Shit. Not again.
Not another fucking hospital bed.
That realization gave her enough wherewithal to notice the tape on her arm. And the tube in her throat. She let out another frustrated groan.
"Easy."
Fingers combed through her hair as a strange, yet oddly familiar, voice spoke. The touch soothed her, and the fuzzy haze of sleep pulled at her mind once more.
"Doctors said you'd be out for at least another week," the voice told her. "Just like you to prove 'em wrong, huh?"
Luna furrowed her brow. Whoever was above her seemed to know her, but she couldn't put a face or name to the voice at all. And yet... They sounded absolutely wrecked. She could hear the tears behind each soft-spoken word. Why? Who were they? Why couldn't she remember?
"You should still rest, though, okay? You're not–" The hand on hers squeezed for a moment. "Y-you should still rest."
Luna tried one more time to open her bleary eyes. She could barely make out the shape of a person before they leaned down and placed a kiss on her temple. The fingers in her hair kneaded slow, gentle circles into her scalp, each stroke guiding her closer and closer to slumber's call.
"Go back to sleep, colibri. I'll be here when you wake up."
And just like that, Luna slipped back down into nothingness.
.
.
.
"How is she?"
This time, Luna didn't bother opening her eyes. Her lids felt like lead and she didn't have the strength to fight with them. At least it didn't seem as bright this time.
"Hard to say. Dr. Torres thinks she'll be well enough to remove the feeding tube in a day or two, though."
Collins? At least that was a voice she recognized even if it did sound like he was under a foot of snow. Someone took her hand, this time tracing the lines of her palm.
"She was up yesterday."
Collins chuckled under his breath. "I'm not surprised. She'll probably be in and out of it for awhile."
Guilt crept into Luna's stomach. Collins sounded so sure of that, and why wouldn't he? This wasn't their first time round, but she'd swore it wouldn't happen again. No more hospital rooms, she'd said. Trust her not to keep a promise.
Silence settled around her, accented by the steady blip of her heart monitor. Luna felt herself drift again. But, before she could sink away, she heard Collins sigh.
"I don't blame you, y'know? I doubt Luna would, either."
Blame? For what? This couldn't have been anyone's fault but hers. Right?
Whatever answer she wanted never came. If it did, she was too far away to hear it.
.
.
.
The next few days passed by in a similar fashion. Luna teetered between blissful ignorance and psuedo-consciousness, and each bout of wakefulness brought with it a new voice. None of which Luna recognized outside of Collins. It was unsettling enough, but the more Luna thought about it, the less things made sense. She raked through the past few weeks, trying to make heads or tails of the situation, but she always came up short. She'd just moved to Paris, just started to plot her first heist, and... Then, what? She'd been on Cloud Nine after the move, so what went south? Why couldn't she remember her own fuck-up?
She didn't know. And she hated it.
.
.
.
"How do we know if it worked?"
Another voice, another stranger holding her hand. It didn't surprise her anymore, though Luna found it no less frustrating.
"I guess we won't. Not 'til she wakes up, anyway."
Luna mentally frowned. By now, she'd heard this voice often enough to pick it out from the rest. He—she assumed "he", anyway—often sat at her bedside, the soft timbre of his voice almost always on the verge of breaking. But not this time. No, this time his words were distant. Cold.
"Chaton...I–"
"I know. We had to."
Excuse me? Luna thought. Had to what?
"...I'm sorry."
"Yeah... Me, too."
Why, though? What did you do?
.
.
.
When Luna opened her eyes, the first thing that greeted her were red and purple blooms. She stared at them as her sleep-idled brain slowly caught up with her surroundings. Lavender and hyacinth. Two of her favorite flowers bundled up in a simple glass vase by her head. Odd. She might've expected the lavender from her family, but not hyacinth, and certainly not in the deep crimson shade she preferred, though there were a few purple ones thrown in as well. She went to reach up and touch one of the vibrant petals only to find her right arm in an elevated cast. Frowning, Luna took stock of herself. Another cast covered her left leg, also elevated. An IV stood in the corner, feeding fluids into the vein of her free arm.
Well, not free, per se. Not with the sleeping blond holding it.
He sat half-bent over her bed, his face partially tucked into the crook of his elbow. Thick, dark bags lined his closed eyes, telling a story of sleepless nights and days that dragged on for far too long. Wrinkles matted his designer clothes, and his mop of golden hair looked mussed and unkempt. Luna blinked at him. He looked oddly familiar to her. But not familiar enough to recall a name. Which begged the question as to why he was there at all. People don't go into random hospital rooms and fall asleep on a complete stranger's bed, right?
As she contemplated whether or not she should wake him, the door to her room opened.
"I don't wanna hear it, Chloé," someone said as they entered. "We're allowed to visit, okay?"
"After the shit you pulled? I don't think so!"
Luna flinched at the harpy-level screech. A chorus of "shhh!" echoed in the hallway, but the offending voice didn't stop there.
"Don't you shush me!"
The blond boy groaned and buried his face in his arm. "Seriously, Chlo?"
"Chloé" snorted. "Great! You woke him up! Nice going, Marinette."
"Oh, piss off already!" a third girl snapped.
As he sat up, the blond palmed his dreary eyes. "I am so not awake for this."
"You and me, both."
Luna winced at the sound of her own voice. The lack of use made it rough and broken. It didn't exactly feel pleasant, either. She swallowed then glanced at the boy beside her. Green eyes stared back at her, wide with shock.
Damn, Luna thought. He's kinda cute.
"Luna?" he all but whispered.
And just like that, a dam broke loose. Several bodies rushed into the room, surrounding Luna's bed with a sea of teenage faces.
"Luna?!"
"You're awake! You're actually awake!"
"Took you long enough."
"Oh, thank God!"
"You had us worried."
Luna's skin crawled at the sudden onslaught. She shrank back into her bed as they bombarded her with comments and grins.
"Guys, back off a bit," the cute blond said. "You're crowding her."
They all eased back, and Luna sucked in a breath. She sent a silent thanks to the boy who smiled. Her eyes then fell on there still-joined hands. Luna glanced up at him again, half-expecting him to fluster and let go. He didn't. So instead, she took a moment to study the strangers around her. Beside the kinda-cutie–pretty boy?–stood three others. The first was a raven-haired girl with pigtails and sweet, bluebell eyes. Her outfit spoke of a kind and bubbly nature, what with the pink jeans and floral print. Next to her was a dark-skinned redhead with thick-framed glasses and a beauty mark, and a boy with even thicker glasses, a ball-cap, and headphones. On Luna's right was two more females; one, a pretty, if not high-maintenanced, blonde in yellow, and the other, a carrot-top in a chic, argyle sweater vest. They all looked about her age, but not a single face rang any bells for her.
"How're you feeling?" Pigtails asked.
The Glorified Barbie Doll scoffed. "Really, Marinette? She got hit by a fucking bus. How do you think she feels?"
Luna gawked at her. "I what?"
"It wasn't a bus, Chloé," said Pretty Boy.
"Fine. Minivan," Chloé said, folding her arms with a huff. "Might as well have been a bus."
"Again. What?"
Beauty Mark rolled her eyes. "Girl, ignore her. She's just being over-dramatic, as usual."
"Excuse you! I'm being the right amount of dramatic, thank you very much!"
"Again with the screaming?" Luna whined. How she still had eardrums at that point was beyond her.
Sweater Vest shuffled past Barbie—or rather, Chloé—and offered Luna a meager smile.
"Sorry about that," she said. "You know how Chloé get. And you really scared us for a sec."
What do you mean 'I know'? Luna thought. "Right. Sure."
"We promise no more screaming," said Pigtails. Or Marinette. Her blue eyes turned sharp for a moment. "Right, Chloé?"
Chloé glared back, but as her gaze flicked towards Luna, her expression softened. "Right. Sorry."
"So, uh," Headphones chimed in. "How are you feeling, then?"
Luna studied all the expectant faces around her. A knot formed at the base of her throat which she tried and failed to swallow down.
"Honestly? A little lost at the moment."
"'Lost'?"
Luna turned back to those vibrant green eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it clicked that she did recognize him—or at least his voice. It'd been the one constant she had since she first came to. She bit her lip, glancing once more at her hand in his. For a brief moment, she wondered if him holding on wasn't more for himself than anything. And if that was the case... Fuck.
Luna took a deep breath. And pulled free of his grasp. If she saw the hurt flicker across his face, she pretended not to.
"So, uh, don't take this the wrong way or anything," she said, licking her lips. "But... Do I know any of you?"
Playlist:
April Rain — Delain
Calling — The Birthday Massacre
Begin Again — Shinedown
Blank Infinity — Epica
Portraits — Dance with the Dead
The Music or the Misery — Fall Out Boy