Though his mind rushes it's only in the sense of an incoherent blur, just a jumble of greens and browns and gray swirled into one, the painted hues jumbled by an artist's brush.

With each step his breath quickens, that tightness in his chest he's become so accustomed to, returning to its rightful place. Each gasp is harder to take as they crash into his rib cage, the boy heaving for every ounce he struggles to secure.

The air has no scent here, the aroma of the wet ground miles away by now and at the same time so close. If he had the courage to turn around, to force his feet to a halt and walk back through the fraying metal door and onto the soft flooring so different from the white tiles his boots effortlessly float above. He craves the sensation of his boots sinking into the mud, the struggle of lifting his feet out of the mess before planting them back down.

As he rounds the white on white corner the labs come into view, the windows that peek into the little rooms becoming visible from further down the hall. At a fork in the hall he takes a left before stopping at a standard metal door.

December doesn't bother with the keypad, rather using the retina scan before the door clicks open and he slips his body inside, cautious of anyone who might be in hearing shot of the unlocking clicks.

Wren sits on the bed oddly alert, eyes peeking up from his lap at the sound of December's entrance, red-tinged brow cocking in confusion before shaking the expression free.

"I already had my shots today." He calls out, nimble fingers fumbling with a spare thread on the mattress.

Something about him looks visibly different, December notices, though he can't quite pinpoint the distinct root of the uneasiness. It's in the same way that Wren appears so human and yet so anomalous all at once, as if his features are too pristine to be correct.

He sits up straighter as he awaits an answer from December, who still stands pressed against the metal doorway. The two boys stand an awkward length apart until December uncomfortably shuffles nearer, just the appearance of the creature causing him discomfort.

"I actually just wanted to talk to you. Person to...whatever you are, the tests were inconclusive." December mutters the last part more to himself, rocking back on his heels now just feet away from the creature sat cross legged before him. His Haven sweatshirt slipping off his right shoulder from the amount of weight he's lost.

Wren grumbles something incoherent under his breath before uncrossing his legs. He fumbles with a bruise on his wrist, the silence now drowning the air as December rubs a finger against his nose, huffing at the intensity of the sensation.

"Do you only know how to find three rooms here? Because for someone that wants me dead you tend to show up a lot." Wren complains, rubbing the damaged wrist against his black sweatpants, the fuzzy cotton catching at his frayed skin.

"Listen," December starts, forcing himself onto the stained mattress next to Wren. The creature's eyes widening in shock for half a second before composing themselves. "I went outside for the first time in my life today."

He presses the words out, one hand drawing deep into his chests as if physically pained by the realization. Yet Wren only stares in silence as December continues his speech.

"And I don't know what it is but I feel like something has changed? Almost as if something is different now? Does that even make sense?"

His words are wild, violent as they fly from his reddened lips and into the deadened room. The creature stares back wide eyed, one hand behind him as if in the process of furthering himself from the crazed man.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you?" Wren's words come out slowly, each one thought out as his brows cock in confusion, body backing away almost out of fear.

"I want you to tell me about Outside. About the world. I saw the woods today and..." his saying escapes him, just a long sigh replacing it before his head falls into his hands, palms rubbing upwards into his hair before squeezing at the soft brown strands.

"You think I'm crazy because I am crazy." December tells himself, the heels of his hands now pressing into the sockets of his eyes to alleviate the maddening thoughts overtaking him. "I yelled at my mom today! My mom!"

He finally glances over at Wren, the sight of him drawing out every scrambled thought that had rushed his mind, just a blank slate appearing in its place.

Wren, that small, dying, angry creature, sits with his back slumped against the wall and a wild smile playing at his lips. He lets out a laugh and December's heart stops without meaning, blue eyes widening in shock at the wind chime harmony that echoes off of the walls and bounces across the fluorescent lights, rivaling their glow.

For once Wren sits relaxed, shoulders slumped forward as his collarbones jut out from his milky skin, a vein snaking its way up his neck and disappearing into his jaw.

As December stares, Wren's laughs die off, the room becoming painfully silent in its wake. Yet December can't unlock his eyes from the little being, a sight revealed to him that he can no longer unsee.

He witnessed the interaction between Ryder and Wren the night before, unable to sneak out from beneath the bed until both were asleep. Wren curled into Ryder's arm as the other pulled him close, the slightest whimper from Wren causing Ryder's grasp to tighten in protection. Only now can he see the humane side of Wren, the side he refused to acknowledge but Ryder saw from beyond the cage he arrived in.

"I-I forgot what I was saying." December admits, voice faltering as he physically shakes his head to clear it.

Wren laughs again, a hand on each ankle as he sits cross legged in amusement. "Outside is nice but I honestly don't know what to say about it." He shrugs, the whole conversation derailed by his spirit. "It's mushy? Trees smell good? The sky is really pretty, but it was prettier with stars."

With this December perks up, a hand instinctively falling onto Wren's leg as he quizzes him. "The stars? You've seen stars? Like real stars?"

Wren glances up confused, head cocking to the side before questioning, "The stars fell in 2500, that was only twenty years ago, how old are you?"

"Nineteen? How old are you?"

"This year is 2520 so," his eyes glance up to the ceiling as he calculates the math. "Around 170? I was around 150 when the Sky Fall came so yeah that sounds right."

December stares wide eyed, his grip on the creature's thigh accidentally increasing until he gives a slight yelp in pain.

"Stars weren't anything special they just sat in the sky. You could barely see them." Wren laughs, pushing the boy's hand off of him to spare his skin any more harm. "We could barely feel the Fall on my side of the world, but in yours the damage was devastating. The world laid in fire for years afterwards, and there were these giant craters that reached to Hell. So many people died that humans were just throwing their dead into the craters. The whole earth smelled of decay."

As he speaks his voice grows distant, lavender eyes elsewhere as if still viewing the carnage he recalls. "And then we found out that the barrier had been damaged, the beasts that we contain were released into your world and only more death followed. A few years of that went by and then you Humans," he spits out the word, a hint of his old malice coming back. "started invading the woods and taking back everything you could find. And here I am." He gestures with defeat, awaiting for a response from an awestruck December.

"I'm guessing Ryder already knew all this, huh?" December asks but doesn't wait for an answer. "You two are close, I guess I knew that already I just didn't really know in what way." His lips fall into a half smile at the mention of his cousin, eyes burning holes into his palms face up in his lap, refusing to acknowledge Wren or his tight-kept expression. "If it makes it any easier, just know that your sacrifice will help him in the long run, we both know he isn't like the rest of us."

With this December lets out a sigh, pushing himself off of the bed and towards the exit. The further he distances himself from the creature the more the spell thins until ultimately breaking, the mirage of the two being equals evaporating into the afternoon. They're back to their original roles of master and captive, a part of December sick with the reminder.

"You should ask him about the visions that he has sometime, they're amazing." Wren whispers, his original melancholy returning to his tongue.

"Knowing him, I'm sure they are."

December turns away, hand slowly pushing against the metal of the door, the material so cold it burns the thin skin of his trembling fingers. Before he can regret anything he slips out the room and into the flickering lights of the hall.

As he makes his way down the hall a sickness overcomes him. Vomit covering the white floors in pastel yellows and browns before he drops to his knees in defeat, head upturned in pain as he faces the one difference written in the white abyss.

God's Work through God's Creation

So why doesn't it feel like it?