Oblivious to the hours that had passed, Une Jesoja had just awakened.

A mix of floral scents assaulted his smell. Upon blinking, the first thing that he saw was a rose placed carefully in his hand. He then felt a sharp sting prickle him, caused by the thorns stuck in his skin. Flinching, the rose fell off his fingers and rested on a bed of petals. The floral scents intensified as he grappled with drowsiness, and when he finally managed to sit down, he noticed that he was naked.

His thing dangled free and uncensored.

Panic-stricken, he stood up, finding himself surrounded by petals strewn about a plump white sheet.

“Ah-" A nervous cry escaped from his throat.

In front of him, the man he met from the alley arose from his seat and smiled at him. He had a youthful appearance and a calm gait. Although confused, Une charged at him with clenched fists, only to be pulled back by a chain, cuffing his right ankle.

Shit. It dawned on him that his life was now in the hands of someone deranged.

Why on earth am I wearing nothing, and what are these flowers? A rapist? A weirdo? Did I just get laid and recorded?

Upon exhaling a mouthful of air, Une threw his body on top of the white sheet, feeling its softness against his back. "So… are you gay?" His words echoed inside the enclosed room.

The man threw him a glance, moving his eyes to and fro around his body. But no sound came out of his mouth.

Une stared back at him, eyeing him in the same way. He took note of the vine patterns drawn underneath his eyes, swirling around in intricate curves of a dark hue. His white long sleeves were rolled up, and on his left hand clung a slim paintbrush. Now that Une had a better look, a wooden art easel stood behind the alien figure.

Huh, he’s a painter?

Une never thought of him to be violent. His expression carried a sense of superiority, but it bore no hostility. His limbs were slender and light like that of a female, and most importantly, he held no sharp object nor a gun.

Soon, footsteps reverberated in the room. The painter turned his easel around and showed Une a painting of himself, basking amidst the petals with his bare body. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Motherfucker doesn’t care I have to be somewhere else important than a freak’s studio? Was this staged or what? Une chuckled, “Shouldn’t you apologize for your indecency?”

He glanced at his genitals, hoping it was untouched. “What?” he probed.

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The man showed no sign of annoyance and continued, “I am your god now.” He declared. His voice was unwavering with certainty in its undertone.

The weight of the phrase made Une’s chest heave. Just what is this freak up to? “Then unchain me, god.” He squinted his eyes in an act of defiance.

With a mark of satisfaction on the painter’s face, he outrightly said, “I will.”

Walking straight towards him, his constant smile unnerved Une. And when the key was right out between the two of them, he lunged at the man, throwing him a punch directly in his face. Just as he anticipated, the painter was never able to throw him a punch in retaliation.

He punched his jaw, slugged his nose, and whacked his lips. But the man only crawled back, hysterically laughing.

HAHAHAHAHA. AHAHAHA. HAHAHAHA.

While this was happening, Une distanced himself and put the key into the lock’s keyhole.

But it never went in.

"It's a fake," Une realized. Infuriated by the man's deception, he pulled his leg, dragging his body towards him. "You bastard! Give me the real key!"

And another angry fist landed.

The painter kept laughing as his face earned multiple strikes. Une's anger turned into frustration then into shame and into tears. "Let me out of here, bastard! I'm not a toy you should be playing with!"

When he finally stopped punching him, his kidnapper mumbled in whispers.

"Beautiful. Your face in tears is a masterpiece."

Suddenly, Une felt cold, and he began to feel light-headed. Dripping with cold sweat, he withdrew, trying to keep himself steady. His surroundings then faded into a blurry image, and the petals began to hover above him. The walls began to dance while the ceiling spun round and round like a disk.

He writhe in pleasure, high, and pain. But the man’s eyes watched him in quiet enjoyment. His wriggling body was the worm, and he was the bird, feeding off of it. After a few minutes of disarrayed images flashing in Une’s head, a pair of cold palms grabbed his cheeks. His body shivered with his hurried touch, and slowly, the painter's slithery lips dampened his.

Unaware of what was unfolding, he instinctively reciprocated the other man's advances. He felt an invader's tongue, twisting his senses, and in a little while, something heavy weighed on top of him. Arms interlocked, skins brushed against one another, their members began to erect, and all the while both of their minds lost their rationale.

"You're one of my flowers now," he whispered in his ears. "You will do everything for me because I am your god."

Une heard none of his words. All the sounds that went through his ears transformed into something inaudible. He limped and wriggled. The colors that his eyes perceived sent him into overdrive, growing mad and madder as he grappled with his thoughts.

“Ahhh!” his shriek resounded in the hallway.

Seeing Une out of control, the painter pinned him down. He told him to hush, muting his noises with his kiss. The painter’s hand traced his lean torso, caressing him again and again.

“I am your god,” he whispered.

Sun beams illuminated the intimate scene. Through the glass walls, various buds swayed in synchrony with the wind. Colorful butterflies fluttered their wings, and nothing else was there to witness the painter’s deeds.