{ still breathing }
— A starter for @hwanara ! Backdated: A few months prior, shortly after the mansion burning.
This was meant to be an easy job, or at least less dangerous than most. Mireu’s just the driver—his job is to take over after the others take the government driver of the truck, and anyone else from the government on board, out. It, seemingly, goes well, with the others quickly and efficiently immobilising the government workers and leaving the drivers seat empty for Mireu to hop in, speeding away from the scene of the ambush and towards the rebel base.
It was just bodies he was transporting, but people’s friends or family could be in the truck, and he wasn’t about to let the government pack them all into a mass, unmarked grave. These people had been deemed useless to the government, as Mireu knew he would be too if he was ever capture by them. His power was useless, and he’d been with the rebels too long for his loyalty to ever waver. They’d never keep him alive, and he knew it, which is why he rarely goes on missions where there’s significant risk. He can’t protect himself.
He’s already a good distance away from where they’d taken over the truck when Mireu begins to hear strange sounds from the back, where the bodies are piled on shelves lining both sides of the space. For a second he thinks maybe there’s something wrong with the truck itself, but then he hears the rustling. Then, a groaning, a moaning and gurgling. Mireu’s frozen in fear for a second, fearing the zombie apocalypse has started, before he shakes himself out of it and pulls over, worried he may crash if whatever is making that noise jumps out at him.
He stumbles out of the front cabin of the truck and hurries round to the back, pulling the door open and gingerly stepping into the space between the shelves. Everything’s still for a second, before a body bag ahead and to his right shifts and the groaning starts up again. He steps closer, and then he can feel it, that thrumming of a living being nearby. God, the government can’t even kill people right. With shaky hands he unzips the body bag, his eyes falling on the prettiest boy he’s seen in his life, though there’s definitely something wrong with him.
Panicking now at the realisation that this boy is severely injured and Mireu’s alone with him far from the rebel base still he stands motionless, staring. What should he do? Taking a deep breath he unzips the bag fully, then gently pulls the boy off the shelf, catching him against his body before he topples to the floor. Lifting him up and kicking the body bag away as it falls at his feet he takes him out of the truck, getting him away from the other body bags—he shouldn’t be confronted with the reality of what had almost happened to him right as he awakens. He sits him down on the grass beside the road, obscured by the truck, and props him up against a tree, hurrying to the drivers cabin to grab his bottle of water, before he returns and kneels in front of the boy.
“Are you okay? Can you hear me? My names Mireu, you’re going to be okay, I promise. You’re safe now.”
