FIC: A Series of Firsts (3/?)
Title: A Series of Firsts: Discovered.
Fandom: Real People.
Characters: Jared Leto, Shannon Leto.
Prompt: Table 2; # 96 - Writer's Choice: Adjustment.
Word Count: 2,267.
Rating: R - mentions of violence, rampant vampirism.
Summary: Jared reflects on various firsts in his life.
Author's Notes: This is the third part of the series. You don't have to read them all to understand one, but they do go in order. For 100_situations
He never wanted any of the others to find out, and he was fairly certain he could keep them from doing so. If he was careful he could find ways to keep himself from getting burned by the sunlight. Knowing just where the shadows were and moving swiftly, wearing some sort of cover that he could get rid of once he was indoors, or simply finding ways to avoid having to go outside before dark. The pallor of his skin wasn't too much of a problem if he kept his hair black and made a more constant habit of wearing heavier eyeliner. Feeding nightly would have helped him keep a more human tone but more often than not he was only able to get a minimal amount of blood every day, just enough to keep the hunger at bay but never enough to truly satisfy him. He kept his hair long enough to cover the back of his neck so he could get by with slinging a scarf around his neck some days, knowing there was enough protection over his sensitive skin.
The hardest part wasn't his appearance so much as keeping up the overall image of his humanity. Food held little interest to him and he ate even less than he had before. When he was alone he sometimes drank red wine. Not for the alcohol but to fool him into thinking it was blood. It didn't always work but it usually helped his willpower if it was slipping at the moment. His heightened sight proved to be a problem for a few weeks before he learned what hues he could see that others couldn't, what level of detail was "normal" and what he had to keep to himself. Sometimes though, it was hard to keep from being distracted by the sight of blood pulsing beneath thin skin, the way someone's jugular would be accentuated when a person tilted their head back. He took to wearing dark sunglasses more often than he used to, particularly indoors, not to help lessen his sight but to keep others from noticing the hunger in his eyes, how the colors of his iris became more vibrant when his stare was intent. Scent was easier to ignore as he got used to it, as was hearing. Movement though, that was a continuous issue. He noticed it was harder to prevent when he was feeling panicked or worried or threatened in any way. Sometimes it felt like he was moving in slow motion when he was simply moving at the same pace as everyone else. His speed was a benefit when he would snap to himself and realize he was about to bite someone he didn't intend, moving across the room before the near victim even realized he was close to them.
For some reason his performance was unaffected and he couldn't have been more thankful. The last thing he wanted was to scream or yell and have his fangs visible, to climb scaffolding with the ease and speed of a cat, or to have his eyes look like he was possessed. Though admittedly the last could always be written off as contacts if it had to be, he was glad that such a lie was unnecessary. When he was onstage he was just Jared, not Jared the bloodsucking, murdering, vampire.
Where his music was untarnished by his change, the same could not be said for his acting. Films were made outdoors, in all kinds of conditions, under all sorts of circumstances. There was no conceivable way he could keep himself out of sunlight, or keep himself suitably covered if he had to be in it. Such a situation would only lead to him growing more agitated and panicked as the warmth of the sun's rays slowly penetrated the cloth over his skin, tried to heat him more than a human would ever feel. His eyes would either darken to black as agitation turned to aggression, or worse, begin to glow as the vampire started to replace the human, his fangs would become unable for him to hide and he would be taken over by the urge to strike out at anyone or anything that prevented him from gaining shelter. Television or theatre work would probably be safer, but it wasn't where his heart lay.
The realization that he would never be able to act again brought such a depression down upon him some times he fully expected to look up and see his own personal rain cloud above his head. Even taking his frustration and growing rage out upon his maker didn't help. They let punch after punch fall, let angry words and growls fall upon their ears. Hours later when he was exhausted it was their turn to throw him against the wall, pinning him effortlessly as if they hadn't just been a living punching bag. They licked the blood tears that trickled down his cheeks, didn't pull away when he struck out with the last of his frustration at the only thing he could reach, sinking his fangs deep into their shoulder and catching his teeth on bone. He didn't even feel the pain when they bit him in return, theirs much more precise, closer to his spine than he would have liked. Words formed as thoughts filled his head but he didn’t hear them, couldn't make sense of them, just drowning, choking on the blood and his tears.
Curled up on a new motel bed in a new city he listened to the television on in the room next-door to his, feeling no guilt or remorse as a reporter rattled off about three gruesome killings in the state they had just been in. He laughed low and humorlessly when they called them animal attacks, said no person could be capable of such acts. If they only knew. Some people were capable of them, but it took a vampire to have the means, and the desire to follow through.
He threw himself into their music, doing more, spending more time among the fans after shows, playing in corners and practicing chords and combinations he already knew by heart. They couldn't do a show every single night - the guys needed rest, unlike him - but even if it was possible he knew it wouldn't help. It was an escape but not a permanent one. Never long enough, never enveloping enough. This gift, this curse, this being was ruining him. Frustration and anger and depression were a potent combination, and it made him sloppy.
The city didn't matter. They had a night off and the next show was only a couple hours away so they had no reason to leave until the day of. Hunger was pounding like a headache behind his temples and he didn't linger for hours with the fans as he had taken to doing, instead wandering off after only two when his canines began to throb. The following hours faded moment by moment as they happened, nothing worth remembering. All he remembered now was snapping back to himself with the taste of flesh in his mouth and the sound of something breaking behind him. He spun reflexively, teeth ripping more skin from bone as they broke free, and he saw something that could not have been more unexpected. Shannon was standing a few feet from the bedroom door, probably just popping in to make sure Jared had actually returned since some nights he couldn't beat the sun and had to meet up with the guys elsewhere. Shards of glass were on the carpet but his eyes were glued to his brother's form seemingly frozen in motion, eyes wider than he had ever seen them and an expression he couldn’t find words to fittingly describe. In an instant he visualized how he appeared to his brother: lean shirtless body crouched over a young male (they had more blood and were oddly quieter), eyes shining like they were lit from behind, teeth tainted a pinkish red from blood, said blood coating his lips and smeared across his chin, dripping from the corners of his mouth. In one word, an animal. A dangerous, bloodthirsty animal.
In a flash his whole manner changed, hunger replaced by fear, panic that threatened to paralyze. He was across the room and locked in the bathroom before Shannon had a chance to blink. If it had been almost anyone else he would have retaliated like any threatened or cornered animal - by attacking, killing the intruder, the threat who might expose him. But instead it was his brother and now he was hiding in the windowless bathroom like a child hiding from their parents because they were afraid of being caught doing something they knew they shouldn't. He wasn't thinking about the body on his bed, wasn't thinking about being turned in as a murderer. No, he was more worried about how his brother's opinion of him just changed forever. It was irrational, but becoming a member of the undead had done little to change his personality and thought processes.
Jared didn't know how much time passed but he used a hotel towel to wipe the blood from his face, his throat, before he unlocked the door and cautiously looked back out in the room. Other than taking a few steps further into the room, Shannon hadn’t moved, but he looked right at Jared when the door opened. It took all his willpower not to retreat again, to simply clutch the doorknob nearly hard enough to shatter the metal and stand there staring back at his brother, filled with uncertainty. Killing his brother was out of the question, as was turning him. The only option that was in his head was leaving, fleeing the three people who knew him the best and never looking back. It would kill a piece of him, but not do near as much damage as either of the other two.
The words spilled out before he was aware of what he was doing, the silence suffocating him and filling him with a need to fill that silence with something, anything. He didn't know if his brother would understand or if he even could, but part of him felt he had to try. Shannon didn't move away when he approached but the vampire could smell the uncertainty, and that was enough to make his throat tight. It wasn't long before his eyes were damp as well, a different sort of frustration and emotion beginning to fill him. He shouldn't have put such a burden on his brother's shoulders, shouldn't have put him in such a place. Dawn was here, he could sense it, and with it he made a decision.
It took barely a second to get across the room and rip the curtains down, oblivious to the noise the curtain rods falling and tearing fabric made as sunlight washed over his body. The pain was instantaneous but he stayed rooted to the spot, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting hard not to cry out as he felt his body burning. Shade took away the light rather quickly but didn't take away the pain as he fell to his knees partly from the pain and partly from weight against him, the carpet now like sandpaper against his skin. The pain diminished once he was in the safety of the bathroom. Only then did he open his eyes to find Shannon staring at him, conflict written on his features.
When he disposed of the body the following night he wasn't alone. Even with his healing burns he could have easily put the body and bloody sheets in the dumpster but Shannon helped him, and it was Shannon that kept guard as the body burned to ash and Jared fed from a homeless woman nearby. The city was soon put behind them, as was the incident. They never spoke of it but his brother never again questioned when he wandered off on his own for a few hours or acted a bit strange in the daytime. He would wake up to find an extra blanket draped over the curtains to ensure the sunlight didn’t get in or feel a hand flipping up his collar to keep his neck covered. Sometimes when they performed he noticed an extra bit of emotion on his brother's face, catch something in his eyes when he would take a drink during an instrumental section that made him wonder which of them had been changed more by the incident.
They said things would only get harder for both brothers. One would age and one wouldn't. One murdered while one covered it up or turned the other cheek. If he didn’t want to burden his brother he should have killed him, but Jared knew nothing could ever make him do such a thing. Nothing. He would sooner die himself. They would say maybe someday he would get that wish. It was risky to have a close human be aware of what was going on, it being family only made it more so.
But when it was that quiet time with dawn still a few hours off and their next city quite a ways ahead of them, it gave him a small bit of peace to feel his brother sitting beside him staring out the window. The two didn't pry into each other’s thoughts, and Jared knew it was best kept that way. The burden was no longer his alone and while it saddened him, he could never deny the comfort he drew from knowing his brother had his back, no matter what.
Fandom: Real People.
Characters: Jared Leto, Shannon Leto.
Prompt: Table 2; # 96 - Writer's Choice: Adjustment.
Word Count: 2,267.
Rating: R - mentions of violence, rampant vampirism.
Summary: Jared reflects on various firsts in his life.
Author's Notes: This is the third part of the series. You don't have to read them all to understand one, but they do go in order. For 100_situations
He never wanted any of the others to find out, and he was fairly certain he could keep them from doing so. If he was careful he could find ways to keep himself from getting burned by the sunlight. Knowing just where the shadows were and moving swiftly, wearing some sort of cover that he could get rid of once he was indoors, or simply finding ways to avoid having to go outside before dark. The pallor of his skin wasn't too much of a problem if he kept his hair black and made a more constant habit of wearing heavier eyeliner. Feeding nightly would have helped him keep a more human tone but more often than not he was only able to get a minimal amount of blood every day, just enough to keep the hunger at bay but never enough to truly satisfy him. He kept his hair long enough to cover the back of his neck so he could get by with slinging a scarf around his neck some days, knowing there was enough protection over his sensitive skin.
The hardest part wasn't his appearance so much as keeping up the overall image of his humanity. Food held little interest to him and he ate even less than he had before. When he was alone he sometimes drank red wine. Not for the alcohol but to fool him into thinking it was blood. It didn't always work but it usually helped his willpower if it was slipping at the moment. His heightened sight proved to be a problem for a few weeks before he learned what hues he could see that others couldn't, what level of detail was "normal" and what he had to keep to himself. Sometimes though, it was hard to keep from being distracted by the sight of blood pulsing beneath thin skin, the way someone's jugular would be accentuated when a person tilted their head back. He took to wearing dark sunglasses more often than he used to, particularly indoors, not to help lessen his sight but to keep others from noticing the hunger in his eyes, how the colors of his iris became more vibrant when his stare was intent. Scent was easier to ignore as he got used to it, as was hearing. Movement though, that was a continuous issue. He noticed it was harder to prevent when he was feeling panicked or worried or threatened in any way. Sometimes it felt like he was moving in slow motion when he was simply moving at the same pace as everyone else. His speed was a benefit when he would snap to himself and realize he was about to bite someone he didn't intend, moving across the room before the near victim even realized he was close to them.
For some reason his performance was unaffected and he couldn't have been more thankful. The last thing he wanted was to scream or yell and have his fangs visible, to climb scaffolding with the ease and speed of a cat, or to have his eyes look like he was possessed. Though admittedly the last could always be written off as contacts if it had to be, he was glad that such a lie was unnecessary. When he was onstage he was just Jared, not Jared the bloodsucking, murdering, vampire.
Where his music was untarnished by his change, the same could not be said for his acting. Films were made outdoors, in all kinds of conditions, under all sorts of circumstances. There was no conceivable way he could keep himself out of sunlight, or keep himself suitably covered if he had to be in it. Such a situation would only lead to him growing more agitated and panicked as the warmth of the sun's rays slowly penetrated the cloth over his skin, tried to heat him more than a human would ever feel. His eyes would either darken to black as agitation turned to aggression, or worse, begin to glow as the vampire started to replace the human, his fangs would become unable for him to hide and he would be taken over by the urge to strike out at anyone or anything that prevented him from gaining shelter. Television or theatre work would probably be safer, but it wasn't where his heart lay.
The realization that he would never be able to act again brought such a depression down upon him some times he fully expected to look up and see his own personal rain cloud above his head. Even taking his frustration and growing rage out upon his maker didn't help. They let punch after punch fall, let angry words and growls fall upon their ears. Hours later when he was exhausted it was their turn to throw him against the wall, pinning him effortlessly as if they hadn't just been a living punching bag. They licked the blood tears that trickled down his cheeks, didn't pull away when he struck out with the last of his frustration at the only thing he could reach, sinking his fangs deep into their shoulder and catching his teeth on bone. He didn't even feel the pain when they bit him in return, theirs much more precise, closer to his spine than he would have liked. Words formed as thoughts filled his head but he didn’t hear them, couldn't make sense of them, just drowning, choking on the blood and his tears.
Curled up on a new motel bed in a new city he listened to the television on in the room next-door to his, feeling no guilt or remorse as a reporter rattled off about three gruesome killings in the state they had just been in. He laughed low and humorlessly when they called them animal attacks, said no person could be capable of such acts. If they only knew. Some people were capable of them, but it took a vampire to have the means, and the desire to follow through.
He threw himself into their music, doing more, spending more time among the fans after shows, playing in corners and practicing chords and combinations he already knew by heart. They couldn't do a show every single night - the guys needed rest, unlike him - but even if it was possible he knew it wouldn't help. It was an escape but not a permanent one. Never long enough, never enveloping enough. This gift, this curse, this being was ruining him. Frustration and anger and depression were a potent combination, and it made him sloppy.
The city didn't matter. They had a night off and the next show was only a couple hours away so they had no reason to leave until the day of. Hunger was pounding like a headache behind his temples and he didn't linger for hours with the fans as he had taken to doing, instead wandering off after only two when his canines began to throb. The following hours faded moment by moment as they happened, nothing worth remembering. All he remembered now was snapping back to himself with the taste of flesh in his mouth and the sound of something breaking behind him. He spun reflexively, teeth ripping more skin from bone as they broke free, and he saw something that could not have been more unexpected. Shannon was standing a few feet from the bedroom door, probably just popping in to make sure Jared had actually returned since some nights he couldn't beat the sun and had to meet up with the guys elsewhere. Shards of glass were on the carpet but his eyes were glued to his brother's form seemingly frozen in motion, eyes wider than he had ever seen them and an expression he couldn’t find words to fittingly describe. In an instant he visualized how he appeared to his brother: lean shirtless body crouched over a young male (they had more blood and were oddly quieter), eyes shining like they were lit from behind, teeth tainted a pinkish red from blood, said blood coating his lips and smeared across his chin, dripping from the corners of his mouth. In one word, an animal. A dangerous, bloodthirsty animal.
In a flash his whole manner changed, hunger replaced by fear, panic that threatened to paralyze. He was across the room and locked in the bathroom before Shannon had a chance to blink. If it had been almost anyone else he would have retaliated like any threatened or cornered animal - by attacking, killing the intruder, the threat who might expose him. But instead it was his brother and now he was hiding in the windowless bathroom like a child hiding from their parents because they were afraid of being caught doing something they knew they shouldn't. He wasn't thinking about the body on his bed, wasn't thinking about being turned in as a murderer. No, he was more worried about how his brother's opinion of him just changed forever. It was irrational, but becoming a member of the undead had done little to change his personality and thought processes.
Jared didn't know how much time passed but he used a hotel towel to wipe the blood from his face, his throat, before he unlocked the door and cautiously looked back out in the room. Other than taking a few steps further into the room, Shannon hadn’t moved, but he looked right at Jared when the door opened. It took all his willpower not to retreat again, to simply clutch the doorknob nearly hard enough to shatter the metal and stand there staring back at his brother, filled with uncertainty. Killing his brother was out of the question, as was turning him. The only option that was in his head was leaving, fleeing the three people who knew him the best and never looking back. It would kill a piece of him, but not do near as much damage as either of the other two.
The words spilled out before he was aware of what he was doing, the silence suffocating him and filling him with a need to fill that silence with something, anything. He didn't know if his brother would understand or if he even could, but part of him felt he had to try. Shannon didn't move away when he approached but the vampire could smell the uncertainty, and that was enough to make his throat tight. It wasn't long before his eyes were damp as well, a different sort of frustration and emotion beginning to fill him. He shouldn't have put such a burden on his brother's shoulders, shouldn't have put him in such a place. Dawn was here, he could sense it, and with it he made a decision.
It took barely a second to get across the room and rip the curtains down, oblivious to the noise the curtain rods falling and tearing fabric made as sunlight washed over his body. The pain was instantaneous but he stayed rooted to the spot, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting hard not to cry out as he felt his body burning. Shade took away the light rather quickly but didn't take away the pain as he fell to his knees partly from the pain and partly from weight against him, the carpet now like sandpaper against his skin. The pain diminished once he was in the safety of the bathroom. Only then did he open his eyes to find Shannon staring at him, conflict written on his features.
When he disposed of the body the following night he wasn't alone. Even with his healing burns he could have easily put the body and bloody sheets in the dumpster but Shannon helped him, and it was Shannon that kept guard as the body burned to ash and Jared fed from a homeless woman nearby. The city was soon put behind them, as was the incident. They never spoke of it but his brother never again questioned when he wandered off on his own for a few hours or acted a bit strange in the daytime. He would wake up to find an extra blanket draped over the curtains to ensure the sunlight didn’t get in or feel a hand flipping up his collar to keep his neck covered. Sometimes when they performed he noticed an extra bit of emotion on his brother's face, catch something in his eyes when he would take a drink during an instrumental section that made him wonder which of them had been changed more by the incident.
They said things would only get harder for both brothers. One would age and one wouldn't. One murdered while one covered it up or turned the other cheek. If he didn’t want to burden his brother he should have killed him, but Jared knew nothing could ever make him do such a thing. Nothing. He would sooner die himself. They would say maybe someday he would get that wish. It was risky to have a close human be aware of what was going on, it being family only made it more so.
But when it was that quiet time with dawn still a few hours off and their next city quite a ways ahead of them, it gave him a small bit of peace to feel his brother sitting beside him staring out the window. The two didn't pry into each other’s thoughts, and Jared knew it was best kept that way. The burden was no longer his alone and while it saddened him, he could never deny the comfort he drew from knowing his brother had his back, no matter what.