Neon Lights

09

Callisto remained frozen in front of Draven.

If reality could stop troubling him for one second, he would gladly appreciate it. As it stands, he was once again thrusted into a situation he didn't think he would be in — again — in front of the very person he had wished to never see. With Luna's disappearance and the sudden appearance of this man before him, it was as if the seams of his own life was coming apart. And it didn't feel good to be in this position, not one bit.

He glanced around the room he was in as subtly as he could, taking in the space he was forced to share with Draven. Perhaps there was an opening where he could launch himself out of; a window or some kind of a small entrance would do. But besides what seemed like red drapes covering the only potential windows of this room, and the door behind him blocked by the men in suits, he was left with no choice but to continue standing on front of Draven.

"Guess we're still not speaking then," the man with brown, almost golden eyes spoke in a tone so bored, it brought forth a certain chill settling over Callisto. Bored didn't equal disinterest to Draven, he knew better. It often ended with the opposing party beaten into unrecognisable features, or perhaps worse, dead. "You may leave us alone, Erik."

Erik, the man with glasses who had been the one to bring him here, merely tilted his head to one side, staring at Draven for a second before a sigh escaped his lips. With a slight nod, he turned and left, bringing the men who had been blocking the entrance with him without a single look back. Callisto's heart leaped out of his chest at the retreating back. When the door closed behind them with a soft click that resounded into the air, the pressure of the situation he was in doubled to a point where if his knees could buckle, he would have been on the ground.

Chancing a look at Draven had every nerve in his body buzzing. The man wasn't even looking at him, gaze downcast to the floor but the second those golden eyes met his, he could almost feel the power lying within the other person. If he took a step back, he did so without realising it and only did he notice he did such a thing when Draven snapped his gaze to his legs, eyebrows raising.

"Why am I here?" Callisto croaked out, his throat aching as if he had hurt himself just by uttering those few words.

That should be his main concern, if he was being honest with himself. How the hell had he gotten here? His main priority should've been that, not that Draven was in front of him — though that in itself was a frightening reality to wake up. Try as hard as he could, there was only mist and fuzziness covering the edges of his memories as he tried to recall how he ended up on a bed of a place that belonged to this person before him. One moment he had been looking for a place to buy painkillers and the next...

It was then a brief flash of pain echoed from the side of his face, eliciting a surprised hiss to escape past his clenched teeth. His fingers twitched to touch that area but he managed to refrain himself at the very last minute. Every movement was being tracked by those sharp eyes across him and Callisto didn't want to give another reason to become a further victim to this weird circumstance.

Draven didn't reply to his question, instead, he sat down. His clothes rustled with him bending down and settling into what seemed like plush velvet cushions, colours distorted by the orange hue coming from the flames in the fireplace. And just with the right angle, head tilted a little as he looked up at Callisto, shoulders straight with one hand on the arm of the couch and legs crossed, he became someone who would cause people to turn their heads to just catch a glimpse of him.

Once upon a time, Callisto was part of the crowd too.

And his heart clenched tight followed by a rush of blood warming his cheeks.