The Sound of Rushing Water.
01
Iris died a long time ago. Rotting and decaying longer than a body should. Aged 21 when he died, Iris would have been 28 this year. Instead of a party, most of his folks would mourn. they didn't know he was still alive, or rather, walking.
Throat cut in an alleyway and kept frozen by an underground black market organ thief. Iris had seen the river. It's cold, and it's silent loudness. He didn't know what was dreaming or what was waking, only that when he came back, he was missing multiple organs. Curtesy of the Interns, Iris could see into himself. Open bloody mess, scarlet red staining pale rubbery skin.
Iris wanted to drink it all away. it wasn't like he had a working liver to filter any of it anymore. not that his body needed it. He learned not too long after, that a repossessed body didn't need many of it's vital organs to continue functioning. He couldn't feel pain anymore, and what little he did feel was negligible.
Iris drank a lot. More than he worked, and he never kept a job. Occasionally working a gas station shift or even Janitorial. All until death followed him there. Sickness, dead or dying rodents found in corners. No one could trace it to him, he used an alias and fake resumes. He bought another drink.
Body necrotizing and narcoleptic. Iris often fell asleep at bars. No one there knew him by the same name, but everyone got used to it. Used to seeing his slumped body at a table in the corner. Used to the occasional rat carcass on the steps or by the bar. It wasn't a very well run establishment anyways.
Sinking back into that glowing sky and grey water. No sound of busy people, no loud shouting. only a steady stillness of trickling water. Standing. Wading. Traversing slowly only to feel the nearly nonexistent texture of the water.
The dream wouldn't last long. It never did. Only brief moments of bliss until he was back in a chair, hearing an onslaught of cheering and dramatic wailing. Iris opened his eyes to see a group of teenagers stumbling out of the doors. The dramatic wailing coming from a woman who was missing a few press on nails.
The glass in front of Iris was gone now, Likely cleaned up by the wait staff. Wobbling knees and a few dropped coins later and Iris had paid his tab for the month. Iris would have been the last one left at the bar if it wasn't for an admittedly suspicious pair of men. The first one in spoke too much, far too loudly. Names practically announced to everyone in the room. All of three people.
The bartender greeted the duo and Iris was left to look for a clock, wondering how late it was. A small analog clock atop the bar's drink cabinet read "12:34", the duo found a table and sat down. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was his poor judgment. Ordering another drink and following the duo surely wasn't the good plan Iris though it was.
Sitting down to see startled faces, an awkward introduction and long silence later, Iris introduced himself with his name. A glint in blue eyes, a suspicious twitch of orange hair. Iris was already dead, he didn't care what happened. It became apparent quickly. The duo looked amongst themselves and seemed to exchange thoughts. It wasn't too long before the louder one started a conversation. Questions about Iris. About his life. Many of which would be left unanswered. Iris never liked to offer up information.
Drinks were eventually left on the table. Tabs left unpaid. Bar empty. The air outside was cold, the only thing Iris could feel. It was too cold, he wished he could have brought a jacket.
Hands balled into fists, buried in pockets. An oversized shirt too thin for the nipping wind. Iris shivered. He didnt exactly have anywhere to stay for the night, often sleeping in alleyways behind dumpsters. And that was exactly where he was headed when someone shouted behind him. The quieter of the two from earlier.
He looked tense, stiff shoulders and heavy breathing. Something about threads and Iris knew he had interrupted what this man had considered to be his fate. But wasn't it fate for these two to collide. It was simply a different path. A path traveled by a ghost. Iris wanted to apologize, try to act human. How would a normal person respond.
And then he swung, and Iris ran. Intoxication reaching his head, a delusional idea that the alleyway would hide him. Running burning cold air. Swaying drunkenly and leaning against the brick walls. A glance into the night sky before it all went black and Iris saw the river again.
He was kneeling into the water this time. Hunched over and coughing. No source of light and yet Iris could see the reflection of his naked form. He always found it odd that he had wings. It was only every here. The serene water. Deescalating anxiety just by existing. Iris was here longer this time.
A few moments longer before the nonexistent ground opened up beneath him and drowned him with the waking world. He gasped. Grasping at whatever he could. He hadn't noticed the other on top of him until he leapt off of Iris. A frightened expression.
Tape was never a comfortable restraint, but it was effective. Staring down and coughing, catching his breath, drunk and disoriented. Lawrence. He introduced himself. Convinced of ultimatums provoked by his anxious mind. Iris didn't care for being a problem, too drunk to be scared. The apartment was comforting. warm and humid, dark and away from the world. It was so much like the river. The plants brought earth into the concrete prison in a way that felt personal. Curtains deliberately drawn to cast shadow over the bed in the corner.
Lawrence brought a cup to Iris's mouth, and he could see the flush of pink. Embarrassment over something Iris didn't care to be bothered by. Haze after haze, this time his sleep was dreamless. Waking up at odd hours. watching his captor's limp body. The rise and fall of shoulders with Lawrences breath.
If only it wasn't considered weird to thank someone after watching them sleeping. Intoxication fading, reality settling. Iris wanted out. Tried attempts at budging the tape, only to realize it'd likely pull against his skin. Iris gave up. He'd just ask Lawrence later about letting him go.
Later came with a start. Bright blue eyes staring him down. The shared interest neither of them spoke of. An expression of study, and then of shock, and then embarrassment again. The air was tense again. The same as it was at the bar. Lawrence wouldn't let Iris leave.
Question. Answer. Flickering lights. More plants. Iris didn't even know what he planned to do. He wanted to think. The sink. Flowing water. Locking the door. He just wanted to think straight for once. When did he stop caring? Should he care? Yelling. Banging. The water stopped. Iris opened the door.
