Pain had never really been much of an issue for the Sons of Sparda. They delighted in it, giving it to each other as gifts. It was something that they had gotten used to early on in life.

But this, this wasn’t normal pain.

“Ugh…” he groaned, beginning to open his eyes. He found he couldn’t see anything. There was a cold compress over them, effectively blocking his vision. He hadn’t even realized some of the ache that enveloped his body came from his head, but a great quantity of it certainly did. It pounded, feeling on the verge of explosion, as if it were going to splatter brain matter all over the walls of the room he was in.

Even without his sight working for him at the moment, he could tell that he was no longer on the street he had been on earlier. No, it was much more comfortable here. A down cushioned bed supported him, alleviating some of the discomfort from his complaining back. Maybe he had bitten off a little more than he could chew this time.

His hand rose from the mattress it was lying on, touching the compress that had formed to the bridge of his nose and forehead. Before it could close around it and bring it off, another rested atop of it.

“You’re healing quickly, but you have a very serious fever,” came a low voice to his ear. It had a steady, timbering quality, and was surprisingly soothing to him. “Keep that on. It may not feel like it, but it is helping you.”

That hand; it was soft, too soft to be bare. It was coated in leather, a thin glove. He knew that feel intimately, though now he could tell that his were not over his own hands.

“Sleep more; you will need it to regain your strength.”

A frown came to the face of the young man who was lying on the bed. “I don’t need it, I’ve had worse.”

“You nearly died.”

“And I haven’t done that before?”

“I wouldn’t know, this is the first time I have ever seen you,” said that voice, staying eerily calm while the man with the compress’s hitched, bucking with annoyance.

“You know, I don’t have time for this shit-“ he began, bolting upright. His stomach burned, an unpleasant feeling ripping through it, and more pain. The compress fell from his eyes, displaying the grey pools for what they were and allowing him to see as silver hair fell to the sides of his face. “Fuck…”

“Lay down, you’re going to reopen your wounds if you continue this way.” That soft hand became hard and unwavering, pushing him back down. As he was laid back against the soft pillows he had been provided with, he finally got a look at the man who had been caring for him.

A long, wild mane of black framed a thin, pale face. His, for it was in fact, a man that had been caring for him, as was expected after hearing that voice, features were soft, kind, and young. A headband, wide and a dark shade of blood crimson held back most of that long hair. He wore a suit of leather, a long sleeved jacket of an ebony just as pure as the man’s hair covered a thin, frail-looking, yet toned frame, high collar helping to frame in that face of his just as his hair. This jacket was kept closed by a series of ornate silver clasps at his left side. This same pattern of clasps was repeated on the outside of his right arm between elbow and wrist. This was the hand covered in a glove that was holding him down.

Begrudgingly he allowed the prolonged contact and continued to gauge the man before him. He seemed to have a real leather fetish. Asides from the jacket, his pants were also of the same inky dark of the shirt. The man wasn’t wearing boots, nor was he barefoot, but he wore a pair of slippers that were… untreated hide. It put out the fact that this man, mysterious and odd looking as he was, had brought him into his own home, and put up with him as well as dressed his wounds.

But aside from the obvious comfort he had for restrictive clothing, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this man.

Except for his eyes, that was. They spoke of horror, a deep running sadness, and pain. Not a physical sort of pain, but a worse one. A pain of mental origin, a sort of emotional torture; more than that, they were the color of pain, a deep blood red, burning with a fiery tenacity.

The last thing he saw before he succumbed to darkness where those eyes.