Those Forsaken Ch. 7
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: 5,536 approx.
Chapter 7
Night After
By evening the next night, Kamui had come to a decision. The dizziness and nausea had faded back to a bearable level, leaving him alone with the sharp shards of memories pressing painfully against the inside of his skull. He sat up in bed, broken leg carefully extended before him, waiting for darkness to fall.
Waiting for Fuuma to come.
Of course, facing the man was like having a death wish. Kamui was sure it was going to be a pretty painful meeting. Dealing with Fuuma always was. He winced. But since every memory he had was painful, what was a little more? And now he’d failed (in the most absolute way possible) the only remaining person who meant anything to him, so… didn’t he deserve it? Wasn’t it a fit punishment? Compared to losing everyone he cared about-his mother and their entire village, then Hokuto and that village, and now Subaru-compared to knowing he was now utterly alone, the physical pain was something of a relief. Fitting that his body should be as broken as his soul, a scattering of raw and bleeding, ragged remnants. Images of the past. He could still remember that night Hokuto died…
He was never sure what woke him up-maybe some small sound different from the normal night sounds that the mind perceives even when the ears fail to hear, or maybe some natural instinct that came with being a twin. Whatever the case, he opened tired eyes, yawning a little and staring across the room at the other bed where his brother slept under the window… and blinked. And blinked again. No, the figure sitting on the edge of his brother’s bed was definitely Seishirou, that man who was forever hanging around.
Kamui frowned, watching, half expecting to find that the shadows were simply playing tricks on his eyes, and he would suddenly find that there had never been anyone there. But no. Seishirou leaned down, whispering something Kamui couldn’t hear, and gently roused Subaru. From across the room, Kamui watched transfixed as Subaru’s eyes fluttered open, looking up into Seishirou’s, and then… stilled. Seishirou whispered something and stood up, and Subaru followed, all with a sort of mechanical gracefulness his brother had never possessed. That’s what finally jolted Kamui out of his stupor.
“What are you doing to my brother!” Kamui’s outraged cry rang through the room as he pushed the blankets off and flung himself at Seishirou, grabbing the man’s arm in an attempt to pull him away from Subaru. Except it was like hitting a wall-he got the wind knocked out of him but failed to make a scratch in the older man. Seishirou frowned down at him in annoyance and caught him by the wrist, lifting him off the ground with ease. And it was while Kamui was dangling there in Seishirou’s grip, futilely attempting to twist free, that Hokuto, having heard his cry, came running in. She came to a halt in the doorway, taking in the scene, and the lamp she’d been carrying dropped from her hand, shattering on the floor.
“Sei-chan!” she gasped, eyes widening. “What are you…” Seishirou flung Kamui away, sending him crashing into the wall. With a wordless shout, Hokuto jumped forward to protect the boys, grabbing the little chair at the desk in the corner and bringing it down with all her might on Seishirou. But it was the chair that shattered when Seishirou deftly raised his hand to block the blow. He smiled down at her with a patronizing, now-that-was-a-stupid-thing-to-do expression, and Hokuto was left staring at the shards of the backrest in her hands numbly.
“Seishirou-san?” a small, sleepy voice momentarily broke the tension. Everyone turned to look at Subaru, who was blinking quizzically at the scene before him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes cutely. Seishirou started towards him, and Subaru reached out innocently, oblivious to any danger. Kamui struggled to rise, but Hokuto got there first, firmly blocking the boys with her body.
“Run!” she commanded, lunging at Seishirou. “Kamui! Get Subaru out of here!” Kamui didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Subaru and started forcefully pulling his protesting twin from the room, but not in time.
Seishirou caught Hokuto easily, pinning her in his arms. Subaru was still twisted around, trying to watch the scene behind them, when Seishirou whispered something that made Hokuto blink in confusion, then pulled her head back with a firm fistful of her hair, burying his fangs in the column of her neck… and she fell… and then they were running, Kamui dragging Subaru through the flames, over the broken glass, down the stairs, finally hitting the door and the sharp ground and the nothingness that waited in the cold night air before them…
Restless, Kamui scooted to the edge of the bed to watch the city through one large window while he waited, broken leg protesting sharply at the small shift. He’d been stuck in that bedroom for so long now. No, kept. He’d been kept, all pretty and preserved, in a twenty-foot square cage. If he’d been able to get out sooner… if he could have found a way, maybe Subaru wouldn’t be dead. If only he’d been stronger… He stared at his reflection in the window (the glass part of the glass cage), pale and perfect, and frowned.
“I want out,” he whispered to his reflection.
“I think you’ll find that difficult,” a smooth voice replied, inches behind him, making Kamui jump. He hadn’t heard Fuuma come in-unusual, since usually Fuuma made no secret about his entrances. The man tended to be direct. Kamui had been more distracted than he’d realized.
He started to turn around, but before he could fully face the man, hands grasped his shoulders, sliding down his arms, finally tangling fingers with fingers. He could feel the man’s chest pressed against his back.
“Fuuma…” Kamui shuddered, and his focus swung briefly from its purpose to the intensity of Fuuma’s presence behind him, strong and solid and utterly immovable. With an effort, he reminded himself why he’d been waiting up, determined not to be swayed. “I want to be able to go outside.” He had barely said the words than he found himself suddenly flat on the bed, having been pulled down from behind, tangled hands now trapped on either side of his head. Fuuma leaned over him, upside down, golden eyes narrowed dangerously.
“No,” Fuuma’s voice was rougher this time, less amused, more final. “You’ll stay here.” One thumb brushed Kamui’s palm with the lightest pressure, a whisper above the skin. Then the man looked down at one of their joined hands and tilted his head thoughtfully. Slowly, deliberately, he bent one wrist backwards, further and further, leaning down to whisper in Kamui’s ear. “Will you sing for me, Kamui?” Sharp pain splintered down Kamui’s arm. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. He would not give that man the satisfaction. Not this time. And he would not let this deter him. He couldn’t fight Fuuma-at least not openly, not equally. But that didn’t make him helpless either… Summoning up all his willpower, he forced himself not to look away, but to hold those gold eyes. Steady. Unwavering.
“Let me go with you when you go out then.”The words were forced out around the pain. He could not back off just because his hand was being crushed. He could not give up. He knew what he wished for. And yet, past experience had taught him that defying Fuuma alone would get him nowhere. Like the steady pounding of the waves against the rock, the man would simply break him apart, piece by piece, until there was no resistance left in him. He couldn’t win. But that didn’t mean he had to lose… “I’ll stay. If you let me go out after I can walk again, I promise I’ll stay here.”
Fuuma made a sound of annoyance and sat up to stare down at those adamant amethyst eyes. It was not particularly enjoyable to discover the boy had developed a stubborn streak, the will to defy him. Things were much easier when Kamui simply obeyed him. And yet… it wasn’t an unpleasant idea, showing the boy around the city. It might even be entertaining. Not that he trusted the boy’s promise of staying, definitely not. But maybe it would prove an amusing test…
Finally, he released Kamui’s hands, letting the boy pull them close and away from further injury. Silently, he stood and walked across the room, only to pull something small and cylindrical from a case on the shelf. Then he turned to meet that bewildered amethyst stare. Striding back to the bed, he held out the dainty vial where Kamui could see.
“Two conditions.” At Kamui’s still faintly confused nod, he continued. “First, you will never leave my side without permission. And second…” Quick as lightning, he captured the boy’s wrist again and dug a nail into the soft skin, feeling the bubble of blood coat his fingers. Kamui tried to jerk back at the sudden stab of pain, but Fuuma was firm, holding that slender wrist immobile as the blood dripped slowly into the vial. When it was full, he released the boy and capped the thin cylinder. “Second, I will always be able to find you.” Kamui glowered, but nodded again, rubbing his abused wrist and unconsciously shifting slightly to ease his broken leg-a small shift, but it drew Fuuma’s attention. With one swift sweep of a hand, he snagged the hem of the pants and jerked it up, ignoring the boy’s startled, stark protest. Viciously violet splotches spotted the smooth calf where the bone had been broken, midnight’s shadow on moon-fire skin. Kamui tensed and shuddered at the faint flicker of fingers there, the ghost of a memory brushing mercilessly at his mind. Then the touch receded and his taut muscles relaxed minutely.
Fuuma inspected the bruises thoughtfully. He felt no remorse, except it suddenly seemed like such a nuisance. Humans healed so slowly.
Abruptly decisive, he slit one finger, and reaching out, caught the boy’s chin in a firm grip, tilting that face up to his. Deliberately slow, he swept the tip of his scarlet-stained finger over those slightly parted lips, a ghost-like caress, before slipping it into the boy’s mouth. Kamui made a somewhat startled sound and started to pull back, stopped by Fuuma’s firm grip on his face. Patiently, Fuuma tapped his finger against the roof of the boy’s mouth, watching the boy’s expression shift between bewilderment and apprehension. Finally, uncertainly, Kamui flicked his tongue over the tip of the man’s finger, questioning. He could taste the blood now, not coppery like he’d expected, but rich and sweet and bitter all at the same time.
Fuuma hummed as the boy began a curious, more thorough exploration, the velvet warmth of the boy’s tongue lapping at his skin. He’d have to be careful of course. Having taken blood from Kamui the night before meant they were one night shy (dangerously close) to a full exchange. Too much and the boy would tip over the edge into darkness, into his world. But, he mused, enjoying the slow caress of tongue along his fingertip, it would take more than a few drops of blood before he had to worry about that.
Eventually, Fuuma freed Kamui, tapping the boy’s lips with his finger one last time before abruptly standing up, a liquid shift of shadow.
“Well, come on. Didn’t you say you wanted to come with me?” Fuuma glanced down at the boy. Kamui stared back blankly, uncomprehending.
“I can’t. I can’t walk.”
Sighing exasperatedly, Fuuma swept the boy into his arms and carried him out the door, down the long hallway. Finally, once they reached the main entryway, Fuuma stopped and set the boy upright on his feet, watching in amusement as Kamui flailed, grasping at him for purchase, and hopped slightly in an attempt to keep off the broken leg. Grinning, he purposely took a step back, throwing the boy off balance and causing him to trip forward onto the other leg. A sharp intake of breath followed the involuntary flinch… and then nothing. Kamui blinked in surprise, put more weight on the foot experimentally and then glanced up quizzically at Fuuma.
“What…?”
“It’s the blood,” Fuuma explained, smirking slightly. “Didn’t you know? It heals.” He tugged one of Kamui’s hands free of his shirt and started guiding the boy down the entryway, stopping only briefly as he swung the front door open onto the view of the city and the night air hit them both, a crisp, cold tang that promised winter soon. Beside him, Kamui shivered.
He took a few purposeful steps into that chill, descending gracefully from the landing, before turning to look up at the amethyst-eyed boy behind him. Smiling wickedly, he reached one hand out, extending it in offer. And slowly, wonderingly, Kamui took it…
Hunger, deep and lethal, shot through Subaru. He gasped, shoving away from Seishirou to wrap thin arms around himself crushingly tight, curling into a little ball as if to contain the fire that licked at his core, burning in his blood. Tighter, as if by clamping down hard enough he might smother it out. But it refused to abate, and no matter how tight his grip, he couldn’t crush the strange, raw, desperate desire.
“Subaru-kun. Up.” Cool hands pressed to his forehead, pulled at his arms, cutting through the fierce flames that were eating him away from the inside. The touch brought blessed sanity. He whimpered. “Get up. Hurry.” He let those hands uncurl him, tug him gently but insistently to his feet. Then he was following blindly, bare feet gliding forward over cold stone, whole world narrowed to the man beside him and that slow, mellifluous voice directing him onward. Seishirou... the calm, clear eye at the middle of a swirling vortex of new, overbearing sensations. He focused on the man. Taking in any more than that was a sort of exquisite agony, his unexplainably acute senses registering too much information for his mind to make sense of all at once. The sounds were easy to ignore at least: the light patter of their feet and the faint whistle of wind under a door somewhere. A bit loud, but easy to tune out. It was his vision that was giving him a headache. If everything had just been brighter, it wouldn’t have been so bad. He was actually adjusting quite well to being able to see without the aid of a lamp, though he often found himself looking around for the source of illumination before realizing with some confusion that there wasn’t one. But the clarity was by far the worst. Everything was too sharp, even objects far away, and he kept trying to blink everything back to normal. And above it all-above the blinding clarity and brightness and the amplified echoes-the claws of hunger tearing at him from the inside out. The raw, grating pain of it was a constant companion. But he could bear it if he muted it all out, focusing on one thing at a time, letting the focus of his attention become the only reality that mattered, the only reality he could bear.
Clothes first.
Under any other circumstance, Subaru would have been mortified to find he was almost naked, but as it was, he simply slid into a clean pair of pants and a shirt, overly focused on the simple tasks of buttons and zippers, stymied only briefly as he tried to get the shirt on and simultaneously keep one hand constantly clutching Seishirou’s sleeve. When he was done, the man took his hand, lifting it up, and began tugging something dark and soft over the fingers, pulling each into place with swift, deft touches. A glove. Subaru shot him a curious glance. He was used to wearing gloves, but…
“Your scent.” Seishirou started on his other hand. “You mustn’t touch anything outside. There are those who hunt us for our blood.” He tapped one finger against the tracery of faint blue lines at the boy’s wrist for emphasis, before pulling the glove down, simultaneously stroking the fingers of his other hand along the boy’s throat.
“Blood?” Subaru queried, uneasily, something knotting uncomfortably inside him, something he was afraid to look at too closely.
“Our blood has unnatural healing properties.” Seishirou’s words whispered across Subaru’s ear, a breath of sound. “There are people who will do anything to get it.”
“Our blood…” Subaru repeated distantly, dazedly, before suddenly doubling over in Seishirou’s arms with a choked-off gasp. Seishirou tightened his hold just in time, pinning the boy against his chest and keeping him on his feet, holding him up so he didn’t fall. Subaru squirmed wordlessly in his arms, wracked by silent suffering, gloved fingers curling convulsively in his shirt, crushing it. Emerald eyes turned miserably up to him, pained and beseeching. Faster. They had to go faster. Seishirou waited for the boy to regain his feet before tugging him down the hall. Subaru followed behind meekly, undoubtedly frightened and overwhelmed, which was just fine. Everything would be easier if he remained docile.
Seishirou stopped momentarily to unlock a series of doors. As the second swung open, brilliant light poured down on them, and Subaru squinted up into it, shading his eyes and blinking rapidly to dispel the spots that dotted his vision. For a second, he thought they’d stepped out into midday sun, but there was something cold and desolate about it, something that splashed the world in shades of bitter gray. It was oddly familiar. Squinting up wonderingly, he realized what it was: the moon. Now it held a crystalline brightness it had never before seemed to possess, reflected light lancing down in stark streams. Then Seishirou tugged him forward and he was stumbling up a set of stairs into that ethereal world of shade and shadow. The moonlight gleamed off his pale skin as he ascended, so that he almost seemed to glow. Like a wraith stirred up by the winter wind.
Finally, one booted foot stepped off the stairs, balancing gracefully on a worn stone block. He blinked curiously at the crumbling ruins that surrounded them, faintly surprised, but was quickly distracted by other things. It was much louder outside, a whispery tumult of shivering leaves and scraping branches and the soft cries of an owl, woeful and wary. And the hushed beating of living things. This last brought a sharp pang crawling up his spine. Hurriedly, before he could dwell on it, he hurried after Seishirou, hopping lightly from stone to stone.
Seishirou halted briefly, long enough to reach back and clasp the boy’s hand in his own, twining gloved fingers with gloved fingers. Feeling that connection, solid even without direct contact, he picked up his pace, waiting for Subaru to do the same, and the woods swallowed them as they left the crumbling foundations of their home behind. Faster, almost a run now, and again a slight hesitation as Subaru matched him just a second behind. And faster still. Trees whirled out around them, blurs of green and brown. Feet flitted over the ground swift as smooth stones sent skipping out across a lake. Except no ripples graced the wake of their flight, no signs of passing. Subaru’s hand tightened in his at first, focusing only on keeping up, then gradually relaxed, emerald eyes widening in delight and darting around at each new distraction. Something about it all was exhilarating. The boy laughed out loud, a clear sound, sweet and bright.
Good boy. Clever boy, Seishirou thought. He caught on so quickly. There was something in the way their feet touched ground in near perfect tandem, something about the boy’s light presence at his side that was very… satisfying. Intoxicating.
As they neared the outskirts of a little village, he tightened his grip minutely and caught the laughing boy in his arms, swinging him around to drop momentum, ending with the boy held possessively in his embrace. For a few minutes they stood there, Subaru still breathless with laughter, Seishirou’s arms a steadying force. And Seishirou watched that smile with an intensely pleased look, like the cat that caught the canary, shielding it from the rest of the world with his body. The boy’s smile was his. His alone. Ah, Subaru-kun, so lovely, so clever. But I have one last game to teach you tonight…
They stood just long enough for that smile to fade and gain a quizzical tilt. Then Seishirou smirked down at the flustered boy and disentangled himself, strolling off towards the village’s outskirts and leaving the boy blinking cutely and hurrying to catch up.
A few, brave, solitary houses stumbled out of the woods as they approached, ones and twos as first. Seishirou listened thoughtfully as they passed, but didn’t stop. Something specific would be needed for the night’s little game. And the whole time he was acutely aware of the presence at his side, felt more often than seen in the slight warmth against his skin, the whisper of cloth, the faint sound of footsteps softer than silk, near perfect echoes of his own. Subaru was like the sigh of a shadow. Seishirou found himself continuously wanting to reach out and touch it, reassure himself it was real, even though he knew it was, as though afraid it might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
Finally, as the little houses became slightly more frequent, he stumbled upon what he was looking for. Subaru’s expression took on an anxious note as he followed Seishirou out of the trees and into the yard. Seishirou smirked, leaping lightly to the second-story balcony. Down below, the boy contemplated the jump with a slight tilt of his head. A second later Subaru had joined him, making the landing near flawlessly with only a single wobble at the last second. Fast learner indeed.
Seishirou turned to the balcony door, letting it swing open under the weight of a few well-whispered words. But as he wrapped one arm around the boy’s waist and guided him through the threshold, Subaru’s expression became slightly panicked.
The room was quaint: a toy chest near the window, stick-figure drawings of a family on the walls, a collection of ragdolls lining the dresser, a little velvet frog all lovingly stitched and lying lazily beside one white pillow. And of course, above it all, the sound Seishirou had been following, the sound that was surely the cause of Subaru’s fright: the distinct but quiet patter of two little heartbeats.
In Seishirou’s arms, Subaru trembled with the force of sudden, raw, all-consuming hunger and came to an abruptly horrifying realization. His eyes widened. He clamped his arms around his own waist again fiercely, nearly tight enough to cut himself in two, and panted with the effort it took to stand there, frozen and stiff, and stay in control.
Up till then, Seishirou had assumed that teaching the boy the basics would be relatively simple. He’d figured that the boy would follow his instincts. Either that or be compelled to it by the hunger. Either way, the boy was going to learn and learn hard. And, at worst, if Subaru was too traumatized afterward, Seishirou would be there to play at comforter, assuring him that it was alright, soothing away the boy’s fear. Seishirou rather liked the idea of a blood-stained Subaru turning to him for help. It would only take one night, and the boy would no longer be so clean and pure and white and pretty. One night and the boy would be like him, his forever. Just one night.
It didn’t occur to him they were going to have any real trouble until they were standing there, and Subaru looked up at him with those great green eyes and whimpered plaintively, “I have to bite them?!” Not the most reassuring reaction. But even then, he assumed it was only the natural fear of new things.
Subaru-kun, what did you think we were doing?
“But…” Subaru rubbed his arms nervously and stared at the ground, clearly uncomfortable with this idea. “Won’t that hurt them? And I… I haven’t asked for their permission, and…”
“Subaru-kun,” Seishirou started exasperatedly. On any other occasion he would have been impressed by the boy’s ability to withstand the hunger, but right just then it was rather annoying. He found the whole affair utterly ridiculous. It was only natural to eat. But then, feeling sorry for the food was so like Subaru. Maybe a lesson… Smiling a dangerously indulgent smile, he continued, “Watch.”
Seishirou sat down on the edge of the little girl’s bed, lightly, not even wrinkling the blankets, and drew the little body lying there into his arms. The girl stirred faintly, but didn’t wake, not until Seishirou buried his fangs in her dainty neck… and then she woke up, eyes wide, little mouth opening in a scream that was suffocated by one large hand.
Eyes frozen wide, Subaru clutched his waist with a fierce desperation and slowly backed up, one jerky step after another, until he hit the far wall. Even then, his feet kept going, stepping back and sliding forward, as if they could propel him through the wall. The hunger that had been burning him alive had turned into a sort of sickness, twisting inside him, tighter and tighter. And still his eyes fixed on the scene before him, unable to turn away, unable to block it out. He owed it to her to watch-watch all of it, to the end-because it was his fault. It was his fault this was happening to her. He was the one to blame. And he couldn’t even do anything. He couldn’t help her, not if it meant getting any closer to the scent of blood-his control was tenuous enough. And he couldn’t fight Seishirou, he just couldn’t. And he was useless, so utterly useless… And Seishirou was only trying to show him. So he watched: that pale little hand clutching at Seishirou’s sleeve, the terrified sheen to wide eyes, the dainty feet twisted in the sheets, slowly suffocating, until bright blue eyes went cold and flat. Then she was laid back down, broken and lifeless, head tilted so that those eyes stared at Subaru from across the room.
Seishirou stood, all fluid grace, and turned toward him, one hand reaching out to him, beckoning. But Subaru could only stare, transfixed, at that hand, the same one that had smothered the little girl. His heart fluttered erratically in its cage, caught between desperately wanting to please Seishirou and not wanting to hurt anyone. He shook his head slowly, as though to deny it all: the girl on the bed, the horrible desire that even now was trying to pull him closer, the whole night…
Seishirou’s eyes narrowed, a hairsbreadth’s difference, but due to that blinding clarity with which he saw all things now, Subaru caught it. Then the man took a step toward him, and Subaru opened his mouth, he wasn’t even sure why-to sob maybe or utter some sort of denial or just to get air into his restricted lungs-but Seishirou was beside him in the next instant, hand pressed over his mouth. Just like with the girl. And something… something finally broke…
One instant, he was standing solidly against the wall, Seishirou’s hand firmly stifling a single desperate sob, the next everything went flat, falling away like the shattered pieces of a window. But with this window, when it shattered, there was nothing beyond it…
Seishirou caught the boy as he collapsed, green eyes going blank. Subaru’s resilience was surprising, but not unheard of. And taking the boy’s personality into account, maybe he had pushed a little too fast. Obviously the boy wasn’t ready. Contemplating the problem, he stared down into that porcelain pale face, tranquil in repose. At the very least, nothing could be done with the boy unconscious. So for tonight, he’d recognize a lost cause when he saw it. No point in forcing the boy. When he was hungry enough, he would eat. Even Subaru couldn’t hold out forever. Yes, it was just a matter of time. Satisfied with this solution, he gathered the boy into his arms and left.
Subaru woke up to the soft crush of velvet covering him, pressed caressingly against his cheek, familiar black blankets. Pastel images swirled, awash across his mind: a faint flutter of things forgotten, fading, falling away even as he tried to catch them. A dream? Had all that… been a dream? As if to prove him wrong, brilliant memory opened like sun-struck butterfly wings, lightning-fast flashes of color assaulting him: a house, a stick-figure family, a girl…
He jerked up, blankets pooling at his waist, then, when he realized he was in an empty room, stumbled to his feet, cold stone against bare feet failing to cut through his panic. The room tilted alarmingly, and he felt nauseous and ill and hungry and alone…
“Subaru-kun?” Seishirou appeared in the doorway. Emerald eyes flashed at him, wild and unfocused. Subaru took a step forward, stumbled, and was just as suddenly swept up into strong arms. “What are you doing walking around in that condition?” he admonished. Subaru simply clung to the man’s shirt, burying his face against that broad chest while he was carried back to the bed. A distant part of him wondered at how Seishirou was ever the only one who could make him feel safe and at ease again, even when Seishirou himself had been the cause of the problem in the first place. When it felt like the world was spinning wildly out of control, Seishirou was the one who could steady it. And because of that, he couldn’t hold it against the man, not any of it. Seishirou was who he was. What he was. Subaru understood that everyone had to eat. No, Seishirou was only doing what was natural. He was the one who was screwed up. He was the one who couldn’t handle it. So it was his problem, his fault. And he wanted Seishirou to be happy, he wanted to please the man, but he just… couldn’t. Not this. He couldn’t.
“Seishirou-san, I... I don't want to hurt anyone.” Subaru’s words were muffled in Seishirou’s shirt. “Are you angry?”
“I’m not angry.” Seishirou stared down at the head of black hair buried against his chest. “You need to eat, but I’m not angry.”
“I can’t. Seishirou-san, I just can’t… I’m sorry.” Finally, those large, green eyes lifted to meet his, begging for understanding. Seishirou sighed and reminded himself that the boy’s stubbornness couldn’t last forever. Subaru would give in. He wouldn’t be able to withstand the agony of abstinence for long. It was only a matter of time.
So he held the boy and let him think it would all be alright… and waited.
Author Note: Not the most original vampire writer, but this 'is' my first real attempt at a vamp fic... *paranoid* How was it? The ending to this poor chapter was originally... not so good. My beta got me to fix it, but though it’s been rewritten and reworked I don’t know how many times (and finally I just cut it off so that the real problem is now in the next chapter), I still find myself worried about chapters 7 and 8 more than any of the others. I’m worried about whether or not Subaru being able to fight off the hunger (more or less) seems believable, and Seishirou’s mentor-like role in the whole thing… Seishirou, who doesn't yet quite realize the extent of Subaru's strength...
But more than anything else, it’s Kamui and Fuuma that I feel are tottering on the edge. Fuuma, who doesn’t realize what he has, and won’t until it’s too late… and Kamui, who could be fighting a bit harder to escape and doesn’t fully understand why he isn’t… I feel particularly bad for what I’m doing to him, letting him get abused like this. *wince* But... somehow I suspect things will be worked out shortly between them. And poor Fuuma... *nasty grin* revenge is coming...
Finally. One of the last bits of information you need to start putting things together. Everything will still be revealed in its own due time, but as of now it’s possible to piece together part of the “what” and the “why” if not quite yet the “who”… ^_~ (I feel like I’m playing Clue: It was Colonel Mustard in the library with the wrench!) Anyway, I know the flashbacks are annoying, and I'm trying to find alternate ways to explain background info whenever possible... Just, some things are easier to show.
Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen
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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: 5,536 approx.
Chapter 7
Night After
By evening the next night, Kamui had come to a decision. The dizziness and nausea had faded back to a bearable level, leaving him alone with the sharp shards of memories pressing painfully against the inside of his skull. He sat up in bed, broken leg carefully extended before him, waiting for darkness to fall.
Waiting for Fuuma to come.
Of course, facing the man was like having a death wish. Kamui was sure it was going to be a pretty painful meeting. Dealing with Fuuma always was. He winced. But since every memory he had was painful, what was a little more? And now he’d failed (in the most absolute way possible) the only remaining person who meant anything to him, so… didn’t he deserve it? Wasn’t it a fit punishment? Compared to losing everyone he cared about-his mother and their entire village, then Hokuto and that village, and now Subaru-compared to knowing he was now utterly alone, the physical pain was something of a relief. Fitting that his body should be as broken as his soul, a scattering of raw and bleeding, ragged remnants. Images of the past. He could still remember that night Hokuto died…
He was never sure what woke him up-maybe some small sound different from the normal night sounds that the mind perceives even when the ears fail to hear, or maybe some natural instinct that came with being a twin. Whatever the case, he opened tired eyes, yawning a little and staring across the room at the other bed where his brother slept under the window… and blinked. And blinked again. No, the figure sitting on the edge of his brother’s bed was definitely Seishirou, that man who was forever hanging around.
Kamui frowned, watching, half expecting to find that the shadows were simply playing tricks on his eyes, and he would suddenly find that there had never been anyone there. But no. Seishirou leaned down, whispering something Kamui couldn’t hear, and gently roused Subaru. From across the room, Kamui watched transfixed as Subaru’s eyes fluttered open, looking up into Seishirou’s, and then… stilled. Seishirou whispered something and stood up, and Subaru followed, all with a sort of mechanical gracefulness his brother had never possessed. That’s what finally jolted Kamui out of his stupor.
“What are you doing to my brother!” Kamui’s outraged cry rang through the room as he pushed the blankets off and flung himself at Seishirou, grabbing the man’s arm in an attempt to pull him away from Subaru. Except it was like hitting a wall-he got the wind knocked out of him but failed to make a scratch in the older man. Seishirou frowned down at him in annoyance and caught him by the wrist, lifting him off the ground with ease. And it was while Kamui was dangling there in Seishirou’s grip, futilely attempting to twist free, that Hokuto, having heard his cry, came running in. She came to a halt in the doorway, taking in the scene, and the lamp she’d been carrying dropped from her hand, shattering on the floor.
“Sei-chan!” she gasped, eyes widening. “What are you…” Seishirou flung Kamui away, sending him crashing into the wall. With a wordless shout, Hokuto jumped forward to protect the boys, grabbing the little chair at the desk in the corner and bringing it down with all her might on Seishirou. But it was the chair that shattered when Seishirou deftly raised his hand to block the blow. He smiled down at her with a patronizing, now-that-was-a-stupid-thing-to-do expression, and Hokuto was left staring at the shards of the backrest in her hands numbly.
“Seishirou-san?” a small, sleepy voice momentarily broke the tension. Everyone turned to look at Subaru, who was blinking quizzically at the scene before him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes cutely. Seishirou started towards him, and Subaru reached out innocently, oblivious to any danger. Kamui struggled to rise, but Hokuto got there first, firmly blocking the boys with her body.
“Run!” she commanded, lunging at Seishirou. “Kamui! Get Subaru out of here!” Kamui didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Subaru and started forcefully pulling his protesting twin from the room, but not in time.
Seishirou caught Hokuto easily, pinning her in his arms. Subaru was still twisted around, trying to watch the scene behind them, when Seishirou whispered something that made Hokuto blink in confusion, then pulled her head back with a firm fistful of her hair, burying his fangs in the column of her neck… and she fell… and then they were running, Kamui dragging Subaru through the flames, over the broken glass, down the stairs, finally hitting the door and the sharp ground and the nothingness that waited in the cold night air before them…
Restless, Kamui scooted to the edge of the bed to watch the city through one large window while he waited, broken leg protesting sharply at the small shift. He’d been stuck in that bedroom for so long now. No, kept. He’d been kept, all pretty and preserved, in a twenty-foot square cage. If he’d been able to get out sooner… if he could have found a way, maybe Subaru wouldn’t be dead. If only he’d been stronger… He stared at his reflection in the window (the glass part of the glass cage), pale and perfect, and frowned.
“I want out,” he whispered to his reflection.
“I think you’ll find that difficult,” a smooth voice replied, inches behind him, making Kamui jump. He hadn’t heard Fuuma come in-unusual, since usually Fuuma made no secret about his entrances. The man tended to be direct. Kamui had been more distracted than he’d realized.
He started to turn around, but before he could fully face the man, hands grasped his shoulders, sliding down his arms, finally tangling fingers with fingers. He could feel the man’s chest pressed against his back.
“Fuuma…” Kamui shuddered, and his focus swung briefly from its purpose to the intensity of Fuuma’s presence behind him, strong and solid and utterly immovable. With an effort, he reminded himself why he’d been waiting up, determined not to be swayed. “I want to be able to go outside.” He had barely said the words than he found himself suddenly flat on the bed, having been pulled down from behind, tangled hands now trapped on either side of his head. Fuuma leaned over him, upside down, golden eyes narrowed dangerously.
“No,” Fuuma’s voice was rougher this time, less amused, more final. “You’ll stay here.” One thumb brushed Kamui’s palm with the lightest pressure, a whisper above the skin. Then the man looked down at one of their joined hands and tilted his head thoughtfully. Slowly, deliberately, he bent one wrist backwards, further and further, leaning down to whisper in Kamui’s ear. “Will you sing for me, Kamui?” Sharp pain splintered down Kamui’s arm. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. He would not give that man the satisfaction. Not this time. And he would not let this deter him. He couldn’t fight Fuuma-at least not openly, not equally. But that didn’t make him helpless either… Summoning up all his willpower, he forced himself not to look away, but to hold those gold eyes. Steady. Unwavering.
“Let me go with you when you go out then.”The words were forced out around the pain. He could not back off just because his hand was being crushed. He could not give up. He knew what he wished for. And yet, past experience had taught him that defying Fuuma alone would get him nowhere. Like the steady pounding of the waves against the rock, the man would simply break him apart, piece by piece, until there was no resistance left in him. He couldn’t win. But that didn’t mean he had to lose… “I’ll stay. If you let me go out after I can walk again, I promise I’ll stay here.”
Fuuma made a sound of annoyance and sat up to stare down at those adamant amethyst eyes. It was not particularly enjoyable to discover the boy had developed a stubborn streak, the will to defy him. Things were much easier when Kamui simply obeyed him. And yet… it wasn’t an unpleasant idea, showing the boy around the city. It might even be entertaining. Not that he trusted the boy’s promise of staying, definitely not. But maybe it would prove an amusing test…
Finally, he released Kamui’s hands, letting the boy pull them close and away from further injury. Silently, he stood and walked across the room, only to pull something small and cylindrical from a case on the shelf. Then he turned to meet that bewildered amethyst stare. Striding back to the bed, he held out the dainty vial where Kamui could see.
“Two conditions.” At Kamui’s still faintly confused nod, he continued. “First, you will never leave my side without permission. And second…” Quick as lightning, he captured the boy’s wrist again and dug a nail into the soft skin, feeling the bubble of blood coat his fingers. Kamui tried to jerk back at the sudden stab of pain, but Fuuma was firm, holding that slender wrist immobile as the blood dripped slowly into the vial. When it was full, he released the boy and capped the thin cylinder. “Second, I will always be able to find you.” Kamui glowered, but nodded again, rubbing his abused wrist and unconsciously shifting slightly to ease his broken leg-a small shift, but it drew Fuuma’s attention. With one swift sweep of a hand, he snagged the hem of the pants and jerked it up, ignoring the boy’s startled, stark protest. Viciously violet splotches spotted the smooth calf where the bone had been broken, midnight’s shadow on moon-fire skin. Kamui tensed and shuddered at the faint flicker of fingers there, the ghost of a memory brushing mercilessly at his mind. Then the touch receded and his taut muscles relaxed minutely.
Fuuma inspected the bruises thoughtfully. He felt no remorse, except it suddenly seemed like such a nuisance. Humans healed so slowly.
Abruptly decisive, he slit one finger, and reaching out, caught the boy’s chin in a firm grip, tilting that face up to his. Deliberately slow, he swept the tip of his scarlet-stained finger over those slightly parted lips, a ghost-like caress, before slipping it into the boy’s mouth. Kamui made a somewhat startled sound and started to pull back, stopped by Fuuma’s firm grip on his face. Patiently, Fuuma tapped his finger against the roof of the boy’s mouth, watching the boy’s expression shift between bewilderment and apprehension. Finally, uncertainly, Kamui flicked his tongue over the tip of the man’s finger, questioning. He could taste the blood now, not coppery like he’d expected, but rich and sweet and bitter all at the same time.
Fuuma hummed as the boy began a curious, more thorough exploration, the velvet warmth of the boy’s tongue lapping at his skin. He’d have to be careful of course. Having taken blood from Kamui the night before meant they were one night shy (dangerously close) to a full exchange. Too much and the boy would tip over the edge into darkness, into his world. But, he mused, enjoying the slow caress of tongue along his fingertip, it would take more than a few drops of blood before he had to worry about that.
Eventually, Fuuma freed Kamui, tapping the boy’s lips with his finger one last time before abruptly standing up, a liquid shift of shadow.
“Well, come on. Didn’t you say you wanted to come with me?” Fuuma glanced down at the boy. Kamui stared back blankly, uncomprehending.
“I can’t. I can’t walk.”
Sighing exasperatedly, Fuuma swept the boy into his arms and carried him out the door, down the long hallway. Finally, once they reached the main entryway, Fuuma stopped and set the boy upright on his feet, watching in amusement as Kamui flailed, grasping at him for purchase, and hopped slightly in an attempt to keep off the broken leg. Grinning, he purposely took a step back, throwing the boy off balance and causing him to trip forward onto the other leg. A sharp intake of breath followed the involuntary flinch… and then nothing. Kamui blinked in surprise, put more weight on the foot experimentally and then glanced up quizzically at Fuuma.
“What…?”
“It’s the blood,” Fuuma explained, smirking slightly. “Didn’t you know? It heals.” He tugged one of Kamui’s hands free of his shirt and started guiding the boy down the entryway, stopping only briefly as he swung the front door open onto the view of the city and the night air hit them both, a crisp, cold tang that promised winter soon. Beside him, Kamui shivered.
He took a few purposeful steps into that chill, descending gracefully from the landing, before turning to look up at the amethyst-eyed boy behind him. Smiling wickedly, he reached one hand out, extending it in offer. And slowly, wonderingly, Kamui took it…
Hunger, deep and lethal, shot through Subaru. He gasped, shoving away from Seishirou to wrap thin arms around himself crushingly tight, curling into a little ball as if to contain the fire that licked at his core, burning in his blood. Tighter, as if by clamping down hard enough he might smother it out. But it refused to abate, and no matter how tight his grip, he couldn’t crush the strange, raw, desperate desire.
“Subaru-kun. Up.” Cool hands pressed to his forehead, pulled at his arms, cutting through the fierce flames that were eating him away from the inside. The touch brought blessed sanity. He whimpered. “Get up. Hurry.” He let those hands uncurl him, tug him gently but insistently to his feet. Then he was following blindly, bare feet gliding forward over cold stone, whole world narrowed to the man beside him and that slow, mellifluous voice directing him onward. Seishirou... the calm, clear eye at the middle of a swirling vortex of new, overbearing sensations. He focused on the man. Taking in any more than that was a sort of exquisite agony, his unexplainably acute senses registering too much information for his mind to make sense of all at once. The sounds were easy to ignore at least: the light patter of their feet and the faint whistle of wind under a door somewhere. A bit loud, but easy to tune out. It was his vision that was giving him a headache. If everything had just been brighter, it wouldn’t have been so bad. He was actually adjusting quite well to being able to see without the aid of a lamp, though he often found himself looking around for the source of illumination before realizing with some confusion that there wasn’t one. But the clarity was by far the worst. Everything was too sharp, even objects far away, and he kept trying to blink everything back to normal. And above it all-above the blinding clarity and brightness and the amplified echoes-the claws of hunger tearing at him from the inside out. The raw, grating pain of it was a constant companion. But he could bear it if he muted it all out, focusing on one thing at a time, letting the focus of his attention become the only reality that mattered, the only reality he could bear.
Clothes first.
Under any other circumstance, Subaru would have been mortified to find he was almost naked, but as it was, he simply slid into a clean pair of pants and a shirt, overly focused on the simple tasks of buttons and zippers, stymied only briefly as he tried to get the shirt on and simultaneously keep one hand constantly clutching Seishirou’s sleeve. When he was done, the man took his hand, lifting it up, and began tugging something dark and soft over the fingers, pulling each into place with swift, deft touches. A glove. Subaru shot him a curious glance. He was used to wearing gloves, but…
“Your scent.” Seishirou started on his other hand. “You mustn’t touch anything outside. There are those who hunt us for our blood.” He tapped one finger against the tracery of faint blue lines at the boy’s wrist for emphasis, before pulling the glove down, simultaneously stroking the fingers of his other hand along the boy’s throat.
“Blood?” Subaru queried, uneasily, something knotting uncomfortably inside him, something he was afraid to look at too closely.
“Our blood has unnatural healing properties.” Seishirou’s words whispered across Subaru’s ear, a breath of sound. “There are people who will do anything to get it.”
“Our blood…” Subaru repeated distantly, dazedly, before suddenly doubling over in Seishirou’s arms with a choked-off gasp. Seishirou tightened his hold just in time, pinning the boy against his chest and keeping him on his feet, holding him up so he didn’t fall. Subaru squirmed wordlessly in his arms, wracked by silent suffering, gloved fingers curling convulsively in his shirt, crushing it. Emerald eyes turned miserably up to him, pained and beseeching. Faster. They had to go faster. Seishirou waited for the boy to regain his feet before tugging him down the hall. Subaru followed behind meekly, undoubtedly frightened and overwhelmed, which was just fine. Everything would be easier if he remained docile.
Seishirou stopped momentarily to unlock a series of doors. As the second swung open, brilliant light poured down on them, and Subaru squinted up into it, shading his eyes and blinking rapidly to dispel the spots that dotted his vision. For a second, he thought they’d stepped out into midday sun, but there was something cold and desolate about it, something that splashed the world in shades of bitter gray. It was oddly familiar. Squinting up wonderingly, he realized what it was: the moon. Now it held a crystalline brightness it had never before seemed to possess, reflected light lancing down in stark streams. Then Seishirou tugged him forward and he was stumbling up a set of stairs into that ethereal world of shade and shadow. The moonlight gleamed off his pale skin as he ascended, so that he almost seemed to glow. Like a wraith stirred up by the winter wind.
Finally, one booted foot stepped off the stairs, balancing gracefully on a worn stone block. He blinked curiously at the crumbling ruins that surrounded them, faintly surprised, but was quickly distracted by other things. It was much louder outside, a whispery tumult of shivering leaves and scraping branches and the soft cries of an owl, woeful and wary. And the hushed beating of living things. This last brought a sharp pang crawling up his spine. Hurriedly, before he could dwell on it, he hurried after Seishirou, hopping lightly from stone to stone.
Seishirou halted briefly, long enough to reach back and clasp the boy’s hand in his own, twining gloved fingers with gloved fingers. Feeling that connection, solid even without direct contact, he picked up his pace, waiting for Subaru to do the same, and the woods swallowed them as they left the crumbling foundations of their home behind. Faster, almost a run now, and again a slight hesitation as Subaru matched him just a second behind. And faster still. Trees whirled out around them, blurs of green and brown. Feet flitted over the ground swift as smooth stones sent skipping out across a lake. Except no ripples graced the wake of their flight, no signs of passing. Subaru’s hand tightened in his at first, focusing only on keeping up, then gradually relaxed, emerald eyes widening in delight and darting around at each new distraction. Something about it all was exhilarating. The boy laughed out loud, a clear sound, sweet and bright.
Good boy. Clever boy, Seishirou thought. He caught on so quickly. There was something in the way their feet touched ground in near perfect tandem, something about the boy’s light presence at his side that was very… satisfying. Intoxicating.
As they neared the outskirts of a little village, he tightened his grip minutely and caught the laughing boy in his arms, swinging him around to drop momentum, ending with the boy held possessively in his embrace. For a few minutes they stood there, Subaru still breathless with laughter, Seishirou’s arms a steadying force. And Seishirou watched that smile with an intensely pleased look, like the cat that caught the canary, shielding it from the rest of the world with his body. The boy’s smile was his. His alone. Ah, Subaru-kun, so lovely, so clever. But I have one last game to teach you tonight…
They stood just long enough for that smile to fade and gain a quizzical tilt. Then Seishirou smirked down at the flustered boy and disentangled himself, strolling off towards the village’s outskirts and leaving the boy blinking cutely and hurrying to catch up.
A few, brave, solitary houses stumbled out of the woods as they approached, ones and twos as first. Seishirou listened thoughtfully as they passed, but didn’t stop. Something specific would be needed for the night’s little game. And the whole time he was acutely aware of the presence at his side, felt more often than seen in the slight warmth against his skin, the whisper of cloth, the faint sound of footsteps softer than silk, near perfect echoes of his own. Subaru was like the sigh of a shadow. Seishirou found himself continuously wanting to reach out and touch it, reassure himself it was real, even though he knew it was, as though afraid it might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
Finally, as the little houses became slightly more frequent, he stumbled upon what he was looking for. Subaru’s expression took on an anxious note as he followed Seishirou out of the trees and into the yard. Seishirou smirked, leaping lightly to the second-story balcony. Down below, the boy contemplated the jump with a slight tilt of his head. A second later Subaru had joined him, making the landing near flawlessly with only a single wobble at the last second. Fast learner indeed.
Seishirou turned to the balcony door, letting it swing open under the weight of a few well-whispered words. But as he wrapped one arm around the boy’s waist and guided him through the threshold, Subaru’s expression became slightly panicked.
The room was quaint: a toy chest near the window, stick-figure drawings of a family on the walls, a collection of ragdolls lining the dresser, a little velvet frog all lovingly stitched and lying lazily beside one white pillow. And of course, above it all, the sound Seishirou had been following, the sound that was surely the cause of Subaru’s fright: the distinct but quiet patter of two little heartbeats.
In Seishirou’s arms, Subaru trembled with the force of sudden, raw, all-consuming hunger and came to an abruptly horrifying realization. His eyes widened. He clamped his arms around his own waist again fiercely, nearly tight enough to cut himself in two, and panted with the effort it took to stand there, frozen and stiff, and stay in control.
Up till then, Seishirou had assumed that teaching the boy the basics would be relatively simple. He’d figured that the boy would follow his instincts. Either that or be compelled to it by the hunger. Either way, the boy was going to learn and learn hard. And, at worst, if Subaru was too traumatized afterward, Seishirou would be there to play at comforter, assuring him that it was alright, soothing away the boy’s fear. Seishirou rather liked the idea of a blood-stained Subaru turning to him for help. It would only take one night, and the boy would no longer be so clean and pure and white and pretty. One night and the boy would be like him, his forever. Just one night.
It didn’t occur to him they were going to have any real trouble until they were standing there, and Subaru looked up at him with those great green eyes and whimpered plaintively, “I have to bite them?!” Not the most reassuring reaction. But even then, he assumed it was only the natural fear of new things.
Subaru-kun, what did you think we were doing?
“But…” Subaru rubbed his arms nervously and stared at the ground, clearly uncomfortable with this idea. “Won’t that hurt them? And I… I haven’t asked for their permission, and…”
“Subaru-kun,” Seishirou started exasperatedly. On any other occasion he would have been impressed by the boy’s ability to withstand the hunger, but right just then it was rather annoying. He found the whole affair utterly ridiculous. It was only natural to eat. But then, feeling sorry for the food was so like Subaru. Maybe a lesson… Smiling a dangerously indulgent smile, he continued, “Watch.”
Seishirou sat down on the edge of the little girl’s bed, lightly, not even wrinkling the blankets, and drew the little body lying there into his arms. The girl stirred faintly, but didn’t wake, not until Seishirou buried his fangs in her dainty neck… and then she woke up, eyes wide, little mouth opening in a scream that was suffocated by one large hand.
Eyes frozen wide, Subaru clutched his waist with a fierce desperation and slowly backed up, one jerky step after another, until he hit the far wall. Even then, his feet kept going, stepping back and sliding forward, as if they could propel him through the wall. The hunger that had been burning him alive had turned into a sort of sickness, twisting inside him, tighter and tighter. And still his eyes fixed on the scene before him, unable to turn away, unable to block it out. He owed it to her to watch-watch all of it, to the end-because it was his fault. It was his fault this was happening to her. He was the one to blame. And he couldn’t even do anything. He couldn’t help her, not if it meant getting any closer to the scent of blood-his control was tenuous enough. And he couldn’t fight Seishirou, he just couldn’t. And he was useless, so utterly useless… And Seishirou was only trying to show him. So he watched: that pale little hand clutching at Seishirou’s sleeve, the terrified sheen to wide eyes, the dainty feet twisted in the sheets, slowly suffocating, until bright blue eyes went cold and flat. Then she was laid back down, broken and lifeless, head tilted so that those eyes stared at Subaru from across the room.
Seishirou stood, all fluid grace, and turned toward him, one hand reaching out to him, beckoning. But Subaru could only stare, transfixed, at that hand, the same one that had smothered the little girl. His heart fluttered erratically in its cage, caught between desperately wanting to please Seishirou and not wanting to hurt anyone. He shook his head slowly, as though to deny it all: the girl on the bed, the horrible desire that even now was trying to pull him closer, the whole night…
Seishirou’s eyes narrowed, a hairsbreadth’s difference, but due to that blinding clarity with which he saw all things now, Subaru caught it. Then the man took a step toward him, and Subaru opened his mouth, he wasn’t even sure why-to sob maybe or utter some sort of denial or just to get air into his restricted lungs-but Seishirou was beside him in the next instant, hand pressed over his mouth. Just like with the girl. And something… something finally broke…
One instant, he was standing solidly against the wall, Seishirou’s hand firmly stifling a single desperate sob, the next everything went flat, falling away like the shattered pieces of a window. But with this window, when it shattered, there was nothing beyond it…
Seishirou caught the boy as he collapsed, green eyes going blank. Subaru’s resilience was surprising, but not unheard of. And taking the boy’s personality into account, maybe he had pushed a little too fast. Obviously the boy wasn’t ready. Contemplating the problem, he stared down into that porcelain pale face, tranquil in repose. At the very least, nothing could be done with the boy unconscious. So for tonight, he’d recognize a lost cause when he saw it. No point in forcing the boy. When he was hungry enough, he would eat. Even Subaru couldn’t hold out forever. Yes, it was just a matter of time. Satisfied with this solution, he gathered the boy into his arms and left.
Subaru woke up to the soft crush of velvet covering him, pressed caressingly against his cheek, familiar black blankets. Pastel images swirled, awash across his mind: a faint flutter of things forgotten, fading, falling away even as he tried to catch them. A dream? Had all that… been a dream? As if to prove him wrong, brilliant memory opened like sun-struck butterfly wings, lightning-fast flashes of color assaulting him: a house, a stick-figure family, a girl…
He jerked up, blankets pooling at his waist, then, when he realized he was in an empty room, stumbled to his feet, cold stone against bare feet failing to cut through his panic. The room tilted alarmingly, and he felt nauseous and ill and hungry and alone…
“Subaru-kun?” Seishirou appeared in the doorway. Emerald eyes flashed at him, wild and unfocused. Subaru took a step forward, stumbled, and was just as suddenly swept up into strong arms. “What are you doing walking around in that condition?” he admonished. Subaru simply clung to the man’s shirt, burying his face against that broad chest while he was carried back to the bed. A distant part of him wondered at how Seishirou was ever the only one who could make him feel safe and at ease again, even when Seishirou himself had been the cause of the problem in the first place. When it felt like the world was spinning wildly out of control, Seishirou was the one who could steady it. And because of that, he couldn’t hold it against the man, not any of it. Seishirou was who he was. What he was. Subaru understood that everyone had to eat. No, Seishirou was only doing what was natural. He was the one who was screwed up. He was the one who couldn’t handle it. So it was his problem, his fault. And he wanted Seishirou to be happy, he wanted to please the man, but he just… couldn’t. Not this. He couldn’t.
“Seishirou-san, I... I don't want to hurt anyone.” Subaru’s words were muffled in Seishirou’s shirt. “Are you angry?”
“I’m not angry.” Seishirou stared down at the head of black hair buried against his chest. “You need to eat, but I’m not angry.”
“I can’t. Seishirou-san, I just can’t… I’m sorry.” Finally, those large, green eyes lifted to meet his, begging for understanding. Seishirou sighed and reminded himself that the boy’s stubbornness couldn’t last forever. Subaru would give in. He wouldn’t be able to withstand the agony of abstinence for long. It was only a matter of time.
So he held the boy and let him think it would all be alright… and waited.
Author Note: Not the most original vampire writer, but this 'is' my first real attempt at a vamp fic... *paranoid* How was it? The ending to this poor chapter was originally... not so good. My beta got me to fix it, but though it’s been rewritten and reworked I don’t know how many times (and finally I just cut it off so that the real problem is now in the next chapter), I still find myself worried about chapters 7 and 8 more than any of the others. I’m worried about whether or not Subaru being able to fight off the hunger (more or less) seems believable, and Seishirou’s mentor-like role in the whole thing… Seishirou, who doesn't yet quite realize the extent of Subaru's strength...
But more than anything else, it’s Kamui and Fuuma that I feel are tottering on the edge. Fuuma, who doesn’t realize what he has, and won’t until it’s too late… and Kamui, who could be fighting a bit harder to escape and doesn’t fully understand why he isn’t… I feel particularly bad for what I’m doing to him, letting him get abused like this. *wince* But... somehow I suspect things will be worked out shortly between them. And poor Fuuma... *nasty grin* revenge is coming...
Finally. One of the last bits of information you need to start putting things together. Everything will still be revealed in its own due time, but as of now it’s possible to piece together part of the “what” and the “why” if not quite yet the “who”… ^_~ (I feel like I’m playing Clue: It was Colonel Mustard in the library with the wrench!) Anyway, I know the flashbacks are annoying, and I'm trying to find alternate ways to explain background info whenever possible... Just, some things are easier to show.
Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen
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