Cryobionic
Seven Thousand Club
"'M not sleepy," Oliver murmured, rubbing at his eyes, 'causing his now blood caked bangs to stick to his cheek, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust. With a small moan of sadness, he zipped down his rainbow hoodie and slipped it off, studying the now brownish red stains covering the entire piece of clothing. "Blood washes off, right?" He asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.