Those Forsaken Ch. 6
Author: Leeayre
Title: Those Forsaken
Rating: M
Genre: Angst/Horror
Characters: Subaru, Seishirou, Kamui, Fuuma
Summary: It all started when Subaru accidentally brought one home. Now Kamui and Subaru find themselves running for their lives, wrapped up in a fight neither could have foreseen.
Warnings: Vampirism, blood, physical abuse, nondescript nudity, etc.
Word Count: 4,091 approx.
Chapter 6
A Change
Through the darkness that was muddling his mind, Kamui knew one thing and one thing only with absolute certainty: he had to find Subaru. It was a sudden and deep-rooted uneasiness. Something had happened. Something was wrong. He needed to find Subaru NOW! He didn’t stop to think about how he was going to find his twin or even how he planned to get there when he was cold and dizzy all the time; he simply swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped to the floor in a sort of daze, hardly noticing that his feet didn’t even twinge under the pressure now. But black spots erupted across his vision, the world swaying dangerously for a few moments, and he clung weakly to one bedpost until it stopped. Then, resolutely, he padded across the carpet and out into the hall.
Fuuma’s home turned out to be practically deserted at night, and Kamui ran into no maids or staff, which was just as well, since he didn’t plan to let anyone stop him. He wound around several hallways and a flight of stairs, suddenly realizing just how expansive the house was, and how little of it he’d actually seen, before finally finding the entryway. Under normal circumstances he might have frozen in awe at the sheer height of it or stopped to examine the huge framed paintings on the walls, but he was too distracted to notice, hurrying down the length of it without a backward glance and pulling the heavy front door open. He finally paused momentarily when he suddenly found himself at the top of a flight of stairs, the city sprawling out before him endlessly, briefly overwhelmed. But that same sense of wrongness beat at him until he stumbled down the steps and into the teaming streets.
Immediately the rush of people overwhelmed him-the shoving and bumping and cries of “Hey, watch it!” His head started to spin, and he grasped for the rough outer wall of a nearby building until it cleared and he could stumble on. In his chest, his heart was beating painfully loud and too slow, unable to keep up. He forced himself to continue, to take the next step and the step after that down alleyways where the crowd dissipated and he didn’t feel like he was suffocating continuously. Still, a sheen of sweat had broken out across his skin, and as he continued, alleyways seemed to get darker and darker, sometimes disappearing in large blotches before him. He panted, hopelessly lost in the tangle of streets, concentrating too hard on staying on his feet to notice the prickle of watching eyes from somewhere in the teaming throng behind him.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Except finding Subaru. He had to find Subaru. His whole being was consumed by that one thought. If he could just keep going, if he could just find Subaru… He stumbled, the world finally disappearing in the biggest black spot yet, and felt the solid wall beside him seem to turn to sand against his hand, and he fell…
Across the city, at the top of a flight of steps that overlooked the urban bustle below, Fuuma was still reeling with the realization Kamui was gone, that he wouldn’t suddenly hear the boy’s pretty voice calling and realize it had all been a mistake. For a few moments he felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, an odd falling feeling. And when he came back to his senses-when he realized what he should have realized from the start-that the boy’s blood was still inside him, fainter now, but inexorably pulling him toward the city, linking them-it was with an annoying tightness in his stomach, a deep cold crawling through him, silent and deadly. With deliberate calm, he headed in the direction of the faint pull that was Kamui, slightly off from the quickly fading pull that was Subaru. And as he made his way into the crowd on the streets, that terrible numbness twisting inside him, he vowed that if he couldn’t have the boy’s voice, he’d have the boy’s screams…
Seishirou knew something was wrong as soon as he set foot through the door. It was the smell. It was overwhelming, hanging heavily in the air, thick enough to choke on. Blood. Sickeningly sweet. Unmistakable. Someone had been there! Someone had gotten in! Backing up against the wall with a snarl, he covered his nose in a vain attempt to defend against the stench that was burning his senses and listened intently for traces of the intruders. For several minutes he didn’t move, still as stone, completely focused on any little sound that might filter through the walls. But all he could hear was one faint heartbeat a room away, and it was stuttering, slowing… Not a threat. Strange.
He remained still a few minutes longer, starting to adjust to the overpowering scent of blood-slowly beginning to get used to it, until suddenly he recognized that sickeningly sweet smell that was saturating the room. Identified it with a person. Subaru. Only Subaru ever smelled that sweet. But why, why, why did his whole home smell like the boy’s blood? It was so strong…
Then he was running, feet flying over the floor towards the sound of that faint heartbeat, hoping it wasn’t… knowing it was… until he came to a shocked halt in the hall outside the boy’s room. The smell was stronger there than ever, burning his nose, stinging his eyes. There were bloody handprints like the last faint fluttering of wings on the wall, small and delicate. The floor leading into the room beyond was a trail of little red puddles, scuffed by jerky footprints. And lying crumpled in the middle of the hall, in the largest puddle of all, was Subaru, skin snow-white compared to the spreading vivid stain beneath him.
For a few seconds Seishirou could only stand there, frozen. Then he jerked suddenly toward the boy with an incoherent cry of outrage, bending down and grasping one pale shoulder, roughly turning him over, noticing the way all that blood had coated the side of Subaru’s face, sticking to his cheek. Black, blood-matted hair clung to Seishirou’s hand where he supported the boy’s head. With a gentle brush of his thumb, brilliant red streaks smeared across that pale skin. Slowly, his eyes traveled lower, past the bloody cuts in the boy’s arms, only to stare at the gaping hole in his abdomen.
Too late, his mind told him dispassionately. Far too late. The boy had lost too much blood, and the damage was too great.
Subaru was going to die…
And suddenly the world seemed hollow, unbearably empty, the silence ringing in his ears. Where his hand gripped the boy’s arm, the skin felt cold as winter wind, the heat seeping out of it. Seishirou wrapped an arm around the boy, grasping the other bloody shoulder, and pulled the boy into his lap to get him off that cold floor, noting the way the head lolled back brokenly, the way the boy weighed nothing in his arms.
Subaru was going to die…
It was only then, as he shifted the frail body to better keep that wretched cold from steeling it, that he saw the marks… His eyes narrowed, glinted a dangerous gold, and he reached out to brush fingertips lightly over the twin marks that marred the boy’s inner thigh. A biting, furious cold swept through him. Someone had touched… Someone had marked… No! The boy was his! All his! Everything that was Subaru-his emerald eyes, his smile, his body, his blood-was Seishirou’s. No one else could have them. No one else was allowed to touch him. Hurt him.
Subaru was going to die…
No! He wouldn’t stand for it! No one was allowed to take the boy away from him! Subaru wouldn’t leave him. Subaru would never leave him again.
Subaru was not going to die!
Not until he said so. But the boy was already so pale, breathing shallowly into his shoulder. If he lost any more blood… But there was no helping it. Besides, those marks had to be erased. He wouldn’t stand to see such a mark of possession on that which was his. Shifting the boy slightly in his arms, he leaned down and gently licked the marks free of blood, nothing if not neat, before biting down over top of them. Replacing them. Erasing them. He swallowed once, that sweet blood filling him, then licked the new marks clean and sat up, acutely aware of each thump of the boy’s heart. So slow now. No time to lose.
Carefully supporting Subaru’s head, he jabbed one nail into his own wrist and held it up so that the warm flow of blood dripped steadily into the boy’s mouth, splattering over chilled, slightly-parted lips, until the cut in his wrist healed.
There was no reaction.
“Come on, Subaru-kun,” Seishirou muttered, stroking that slender throat gently in an attempt to coax the boy to swallow, watching the porcelain-pale face for the slightest movement. “Drink it.” Long, agonizing seconds passed. Then finally, finally Subaru swallowed… and promptly started choking, entire body jerking weakly before lapsing back into stillness. Quickly, Seishirou slit his wrist open again, holding it up once more until the boy’s mouth filled with the blood and the slit healed, waiting patiently for Subaru to swallow before repeating the whole thing again. And again. Until finally the boy was swallowing regularly and Seishirou could simply hold his nail to his wrist to prevent it from healing. And the whole time, Seishirou held the limp little body in his arms with an infinite patience procured by the weight of centuries. Something inside him was pleased with the knowledge Subaru was drinking his blood, pleased to know it was his blood that was filling that slender throat, invading that delicate body, changing him.
For a time the darkness was filled with a languid sense of peace and pleasure. Then Subaru shuddered in his arms, and he quickly pulled the boy closer to his chest, tightening his hold, pinning that frail body carefully but securely in his arms. No sooner had he done so than the boy’s entire body tensed. There was a gasp, and the boy convulsed, head falling back. Pain-glazed green eyes stared up at Seishirou, wide and blank. Then the boy started thrashing. Small fingers dug into his shoulders, tight enough for fingernails to leave bloody crescent moons against his skin. Little hiccup-like gasps were buried in his shirt as the boy swallowed the screams that were almost tearing him apart.
Though Seishirou could only vaguely remember the pain himself, like a memory of a memory, faint and faded from time, he could remember not wanting to repeat the experience. It was in his blood, an echo of an earth-shattering agony. And Subaru was so fragile. He could feel the convulsions that wracked the frail body in his arms and tightened his hold even more, wrapping the boy up protectively in an attempt to shield him. Nothing was allowed to hurt Subaru. Nothing.
Then finally the convulsions diminished and the boy slumped, panting weakly, in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, a sheen of sweat coating that fair skin, before falling into an exhausted sleep. Seishirou held him for a few moments longer, brushing bloodied hair away from lidded eyes, before lifting him into the bathroom. Once the blood and sweat were washed away with careful caresses of a washcloth, it was easy to see the unblemished skin of the boy’s abdomen where before there had been a gaping wound. Whole again.
When he was satisfied that the boy was clean enough, he lifted him back into his arms and carried him down a hallway to a locked door. The room beyond was sparsely furnished compared to the rest of his home. The few things that decorated it were neither pretty nor valuable, but utterly priceless-a cylindrical case, a black glove, a pendant in the form of a broken, golden circle with a sword upright through the center on a thick chain. It was time Subaru joined them. Seishirou set the boy down on the bed along the far wall-his bed. Really, the boy had belonged there from the start. He watched his lovely, living, little addition to his room for a few minutes, before reluctantly standing up. There were things that had to be done before sleeping, and there wasn’t much time left.
Seconds later, he was standing back above ground, eyes closed, examining the shattered remnants of the broken wards. Crude, he decided. Whoever had broken the illusions had done so using pure force. Those had been good illusions too. But as bothersome as it was to discover there was someone out there with that much strength, more worrisome was the illusion that hadn’t been broken-the one he’d woven from his own Power-a special maboroshi that should have alerted him if someone approached. It was almost as if the one who’d gotten in had walked right through it, and that was particularly disturbing. He could reweave the illusions, attempt to make them stronger-that would at least provide protection against anyone else wandering in uninvited, but he didn’t hold out hope that it would keep out whoever had broken them the first time. He glanced at the horizon and frowned. No time to look into it tonight. Quickly, he replaced what he could, deftly rebuilding the complex illusions, before turning back and rejoining Subaru inside.
He slipped silently under the red-stitched, black, velvet blankets, little gold tassels swinging at the motion, and pulled the boy into his arms, watching over him as the sun rose above the horizon, pulling them both into a deep sleep.
Kamui was vaguely surprised when his inevitable meeting with the street was interrupted by a pair of arms sweeping him up into the air. It left him with a disoriented feeling, like gravity had been temporarily suspended. Or maybe that was just part of the dizziness and nausea that had been plaguing him. He tilted his head up to get a look at his rescuer, recognizing the little oval shades almost instantly. Then he was being carried. Kamui’s brain kicked back in at this, protesting loudly.
“No, no…” Kamui squirmed, struggling against Fuuma’s hold. “Subaru. I have to find Subaru.” They were going the wrong direction. Fuuma was surely taking him home, and he couldn’t go back yet. Subaru needed him. He had to keep looking. They couldn’t go this way! It was all wrong! He twisted plaintively until Fuuma’s hold suddenly tightened on him, and he was forced to still with a whimper or be crushed by that grip, finally realizing something was wrong. The look on the man’s face was frightening.
Fuuma didn’t say a word the entire time he carried Kamui home, and Kamui held very still and tried to make himself small, which wasn’t hard considering his present condition, certain that the silence was more ominous than any words. Fuuma carried him all the way back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, Kamui still in his arms. Then, finally, the man spoke.
“So you can walk now…” Fuuma’s voice was soft, amused, but his mouth was set in a firm line and his eyes were perfectly blank. One of his hands played absently with the hem of Kamui’s pants’ leg, pushing the fabric up higher and higher as he trailed light fingertips over the pale, thin leg beneath. “We can’t have that…” The fingertips paused dangerously halfway along one pale calf. “Maybe we’ll just have to break something else…” Kamui didn’t even have time to tense. With vicious precision, Fuuma’s hand came down sharply on his leg, snapping the bone. The result was instantaneous.
Kamui screamed. Head thrown back, he rent the night with his raw, broken voice. Fuuma listened rapturously to the piercing notes as the boy screamed again, shattering the darkness, until the screams dissolved into choked sobs. Then he chuckled maliciously and bent down to whisper into the boy’s ear.
“Beautiful.” He pulled the broken boy close, feeling the sobs that wracked the small body reverberating against his chest, before pressing his face to the boy’s head, enjoying the feathery feel of the fine black hair against his lips and skin. He listened, content, as the dry sobbing gradually slowed. Kamui wouldn't leave him...
Once the pain had died down enough for color to return to the world, Kamui fought his way to coherency, gritting his teeth and clinging to Fuuma’s shirt with single-minded determination-clung like it was his only link to rational thought. He couldn’t let go of that shirt. He could not let go. There was something important-something beyond the pain-something he must not forget yet, even if it would make Fuuma angrier. He knew he had to make the man understand.
“Subaru…” he panted, the words coming in little bursts of clarity, “needs me… Subaru… hurt.”
“Subaru’s dead.” The voice was flat, cold. Kamui blinked, not understanding. Clearly, the pain was worse than he’d thought, messing with his hearing…
“What?”
“Subaru’s dead.”
“Dead…” Kamui echoed, and his hands let go of Fuuma’s shirt, falling… falling…
He didn’t understand. He’d… failed? He’d been too late? Seishirou had… Subaru. Seishirou had…
It never occurred to him to ask who had killed Subaru. In Kamui’s mind, there was only one possibility.
Long fingers hooked under his jaw and tilted his chin up till gold eyes stared down at him. A thumb brushed his cheek.
“Stay with me, Kamui.” And he wondered why that voice sounded so… desperate. Surely that wasn’t right. “Stay with me. Don’t ever leave.” Something warm ran down his cheek. Kamui blinked, but that only caused the world to distort further, gaining a brilliant sheen. It wasn’t just his leg that hurt anymore, it was his entire body. Then he was shuddering and Fuuma’s hands were cupping his face as the man gently licked the tears away, which only caused Kamui to cry harder, until the world dissolved into a crystalline kaleidoscope.
Kamui was never sure when he fell asleep, only that the darkness was welcoming and somehow warm, and he felt strangely safe.
Seishirou woke first, mildly surprised to find a black-haired, snow-skinned boy curled tiredly in his arms, before the events of the previous night flooded back into his mind with vivid clarity. Coming home to find someone had shattered his illusions, broken in, and Subaru… Subaru… Seishirou’s eyes darkened. The one responsible was going to have a very unfortunate meeting as soon as Seishirou could arrange it. Of course, tracking down the intruder was going to be a bit difficult, considering the whole place still reeked of blood, effectively obliterating any other scent. It was a sort of personal insult that someone had not only managed to break his illusions, but had tainted his most precious possession and was still alive.
Seishirou glared at the wall above Subaru’s head. Their home had been desecrated. The walls that had once protected them-shielded them from the outside-had been defiled, splattered with the blood of the very ones they were designed to protect. Now they stood, hollow and broken, shrieking their alarm with every creak and groan that issued from those tortured hallways: “Not safe! Not safe!” The call echoed down dark corridors and resonated in the very air, infusing in the inhabitants a sense of wariness and deep unease. Seishirou wanted with a strange ferocity to get Subaru out of there-to take him far away and hide him so thoroughly no one would ever find him again. No one would ever touch him. Or hurt him. Or take him away. But it wouldn’t matter. As much as he hated it, he was certain they had been found in the first place through Kamui’s blood. If that was the case, they could be tracked down anywhere. Seishirou didn’t like being that vulnerable, but if there was nothing that could be done about it (and he certainly wasn’t giving up Subaru), staying suited him just fine. This way he could face their intruder properly. Seishirou smiled darkly and clutched the boy tighter, determined not to let Subaru out of his sight.
Thoughtfully, he petted pitch-black hair and rested his chin on top of the boy’s head, resolutely ignoring the hunger that gnawed at him. Changing the boy had been a pleasant but draining experience. Pleasant and… satisfying. Something about knowing Subaru would stay with him, forever, just the way he was now, filled him with satisfaction. Not even time could steal the boy from him, not anymore. Subaru would always be… perfect. Of course, this also meant teaching the boy how to hunt… The thought of Subaru taking some human into his embrace, lips brushing someone else’s soft skin, needing anyone else at all made Seishirou growl with displeasure. But before he could dwell too much on the implications of that particularly irritating thought, he realized he was being watched by a pair of exhausted, emerald eyes.
Subaru shuddered, watching the face above him. It wasn’t anything obvious, but he could tell Seishirou was angry. He winced, feeling a bit as if he’d been hit. He felt funny, and everything was a bit too bright, a bit too clear, and he was vaguely hungry, and for some reason that scared him, and it was wrong, all wrong, but Seishirou was angry, Seishirou was angry, Seishirou was angry… Timidly, he twisted shaking fingers in Seishirou’s shirt, ignoring the strange new sensations that were beating at his consciousness, afraid that he would be pushed away despite the man’s firm embrace. Surely Seishirou hated him now. Surely Seishirou would want to get rid of him. After all, he’d messed everything up, and there was something wrong with him now. He could sense it inside himself-something out of place. Something different. Something wrong. And it was terrifying. If the man didn’t want him, he could understand that, but he didn’t want to be left alone. Anything but that. Tears caught in long lashes, blurring the world a little more.
“I’m sorry!” he whispered, staring down, afraid to meet those amber eyes, afraid to face the rejection that would surely come next. “Please don’t be mad! I’m sorry!”
“What?” Seishirou blinked down at the boy blankly, trying to make sense of his words. Not only was this not the reaction he’d been expecting, it made no sense at all. Why on earth would Subaru think he’d be angry with him? He was beginning to realize that it was impossible to predict Subaru’s thought processes.
“I made a mess. All that blood. I ruined all your pretty things. Please don’t be angry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m…”
“Subaru-kun!” Seishirou, incredulous, interrupted the boy before he could apologize indefinitely, and stared, amused, down into those wide green eyes. “I don’t care about the mess.”
“I...” Subaru started, but was silenced by the press of Seishirou’s finger to his lips.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, um,” Subaru blinked under the weight of a heavy amber gaze, not exactly sure where this was going, “yes.” Then a memory filtered through the haze in his brain and he glanced down at himself, semi-surprised to see smooth skin where he was pretty sure… He turned a questioning glance on Seishirou, once again attempting to blink away the strange clarity that plagued his vision, thinking vaguely that there was an awfully bright lamp somewhere nearby. He twisted to see if the source of the illumination was behind him, but there was nothing there. No lamp. Anywhere. So then why could he see the older man just fine? He tried to make sense of it all, frowning cutely before looking back up at Seishirou, tentative, bewildered. “You’re not angry with me? This means… I can stay with you?”
He never got an answer. At that point, the vague desire he’d been desperately ignoring, desperately shoving aside to be dealt with later, suddenly flared up, and the world was consumed in a white-hot flash of fierce hunger…
Author Note: And with that… I am about to go where no author has gone before! *evil glint* Okay, not ‘no’ author, but I swear 90% of vamp stories end with the characters being turned and never show all the trouble that undoubtedly ensues. Soo… let’s jump head first into it and see how it goes… Next chapter: Seishirou realizes they’re uh, going to have some problems… (Subaru: “I have to bite people?!”) ^^; This is not going to go well. Poor Seishirou. Meanwhile, Kamui decides to stand up for something (it’s going to be painful), and you’ll finally get to see what happened ‘inside’ the house the night the boy’s ran away.
Also, there are way too many references to X in this, some of which are important. Anyone who thinks they really know Seishirou and Subaru, there are four objects mentioned in this chapter that are taken from the canon (not necessarily from X!). However, one of them isn’t in the right form (it has to do with the design of the boys’ beds), and the others… I’m not the best at describing things. So if it’s a bit difficult to figure out due to that, I apologize. (But anyone who can get all four, I’ll totally give you cookies!) Also, for the first time you’re getting hints of Fuuma’s Power… ^_^ That’s 2 Powers down. Yay!
Q and A: Due to the number of questions regarding a certain black-haired, female vampire last chapter, I might as well alleviate all the curiosity now, seeing as how most of the questions asked aren’t regarding information that’ll come up in the fic. Yes, that was Setsuka. XD Yes, she’s still Seishirou’s mother, but no, there are no purebloods in my stories-vampires have to be turned. So Setsuka bore Seishirou, was turned herself, and then turned him (several years later). By then, Setsuka had killed the one who turned her. As for Seishirou, there are currently… oh, I think 3 vampires older than him for sure. I’ll let you guess who. ^_^ I sincerely doubt you’ll meet the oldest one in this story, but you might hear of her at the end. Sooo… all this means of course Fuuma wasn’t born a vampire either.
I also had some questions about Fuuma’s place of residence and the maids and servants. I didn’t mean to give the impression that these people were some sort of drones or blood donors or anything like that. Very much the opposite. Using people close to you as meals would be something of a dead giveaway, so the people who work for Fuuma are probably actually safer than anyone else. And while Fuuma might request tasks of them, the only compulsion they’re under is to not speculate on any strange habits they might happen to notice their lord possessing amongst themselves. They stay out of Fuuma’s affairs, including Kamui. If you asked them, they’d probably vouch for Fuuma being a good person. *amused*
Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen
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