[moon child] under blood moon
For panda_monium , because well . . . it's really her fault. Maybe not ALL her fault, but enough for me to blame it on her. XD Thanks for sitting through all my ranting and bitching, luv. You're priceless. ^_^
Moon Child fic. Kei/Shou-ish. Spoilers. Set directly after Shou's . . . change. Mad abuse of teh ellipses. (Ellipsises? Ergh?) Profanity.
under blood moon
(i can tell you why the end will never come)
"Do it. Please, Shou . . ." Kei is speaking softly, dark eyes turned to watch Shou's empty face.
Shou hasn't moved for days, hasn't spoken, hasn't . . . eaten. Kei's hand moves upwards to close over Shou's, and he cringes inwardly, feeling the tremble -- little earthquakes, bone-deep.
There is no pulse beneath his skin.
There is no blood beneath his skin.
It has been too long. Kei has spent his nights by Shou's side since he changed him, leaving only to care for Hana, and already the hunger eats at him, vertigo and the sharp twist in the pit of his stomach and he can still barely touch on what he knows Shou is going through. He can sympathize, though -- he had done the same thing, in the beginning.
Kei knows what will happen, and that is why he cannot give up.
"Shou." He closes his eyes and brings Shou's hand to his face, pressing his cheek against Shou's cold palm -- too cold, too cold, he'd been so desperate then to save Shou's warmth, the last warmth he knew, he'd been selfish but he couldn't let go, not yet.
Forgive me for this.
Shou starts, his eyes flicker towards Kei for a moment and the raw pain on the other vampire's face brings him back to himself, just barely. He is burning inside from the pain and the hunger but his mind flinches still from what giving in means. This is a craving like no other, a far cry from the want of a cigarette, closer, so much closer to the desperate obsession of deep lust.
The last barriers are breaking -- only his raw stubbornness is keeping him from plunging out the window in search of new blood.
And he remembers a time, not too long ago, when it had been Kei in the chair and he trying so fucking desperately to keep his closest alive.
But he understands now.
His fingers twitch, a ghost touch against Kei's face. The other stirs, and for a moment their eyes meet green against blue, deep sea against clear bright sky that they mayn't have anymore. They both belong to the dark, now, and Kei briefly wonders exactly how much Shou will hate him the moment he realizes how much it burns to have the sun against his skin. Kei has wondered for a long time about all the things Shou will hate him for.
He wonders if he'll be able to handle it when that time comes.
Shou's attention threatens to turn back to the yellowed, smoke-stained wall that has held his gaze for the last few days, so Kei reacts -- swiftly, he pushes up to his knees against the dirty blond carpet, drawn face hovering near Shou's and begging with so much more than his voice.
"Shou . . . please. Come with me."
There are a few seconds in which Kei thinks perhaps Shou hasn't heard him. But Shou moves so slowly Kei can almost hear the creaking of Shou's bones beneath the skin. A thought flickers across his mind, here and gone, a memory -- Shou's body, frail and human and the red-heat of Shou's pulse fluttering weakly against his tongue and teeth. Desperation, a hundred thousand years of desperation in a few seconds don'tdiedon'tyoufuckingdaredienotnow . . .
Shou should never feel this old. Kei . . . Kei wanted to keep him forever. Forever Shou, forever the child in his heart that he's loved so long. This . . . this isn't Shou. Not his Shou.
He closes his eyes.
"Kei," Shou's voice is soft, like it hasn't been used in years, like cobwebs and moonlight and dark dusty places best forgotten. "I can't do this."
"You have to do this." Kei murmurs.
Shou's hand feels like paper against his face.
"I can't! I . . . I keep seeing . . ." He didn't need to finish. Kei understood.
I keep seeing you.
Kei drew back from him and stood, turning away. "I'm sorry, Shou. So so sorry . . . I wish it could have been different. I'm sorry, but I--"
. . . I couldn't let you die. I couldn't let you leave me, not when I finally had you again.
Shou doesn't say anything, but Kei can hear clearly the static rustle of Shou's shirt shifting, the slow shrinking hush of white noise against silent room. Part of him wonders what Shou is thinking. The other part of him knows. They've been too close for too long not to, now more than ever.
He straightens, and turns back to face what he has created. Before him, Shou's nails rake against his skin, scraping against bloodless flesh and meat. "Shou," he says softly, "please, stop. This . . . this you can't control. It will get worse -- so much worse -- and then the blood lust will take you, and you will tear apart the first human you see." He pauses, briefly, and his eyes run to the dirty window, running and coming back wounded. "And you will probably regret it, like I do. I held back as long as I could, Shou, and when I finally broke a little girl died for it." A look of revulsion slides against Kei's features as he speaks, twisting his pale face into something momentarily hideous and daring Shou to look away from this.
He doesn't.
Kei holds out a hand to Shou, visibly trembling, eyes as dark as the night. "Please."
An image flickers across Shou's mind -- Hana, lifeless, her small white throat torn open, blood against pale skin and a bright yellow sundress . He imagines her blood would taste like --
-- a choked cry wrenches itself from his throat as he reaches out.
- - -
It did not take long.
Kei had misjudged Shou's control -- it had taken a great deal of strength to hold Shou back from tackling every person they crossed. They had stumbled deliriously down the sidewalks, Shou baring his teeth at those who passed as Kei apologized for his 'drunk' friend, his own instincts reacting dangerously at the thought of so much blood so close, pulses hammering just beneath their skins. But Kei knew how the game was played: he knew all the tricks to their cat-and-mouse game with the humans, how to wait in the dark alleyway for some skulking passerby to come across their tiny piece of the city's great shadow. Kei had always thanked whatever might possibly be watching over his kind for the blessed darkness and protection Mallepa's endless alleyways offered, and this time was no different. They were huddled, Kei bent over Shou's back, arms crossed over the other's chest behind a dumpster, the endless sounds of the streets nearby not quite penetrating their ink-dark corner of the alley.
When an older Japanese man had turned their way, Kei's grip on Shou had tightened just a little -- half warning, half alert. It would not do to let his prey find them, not yet.
He came closer, passing only feet from where they crouched.
Then Kei let go.
He remembered Shou as a child, and the sincere smile his pale dirty face always seemed to carry.
He remembered the way Shou had always seemed to get his way, whether it was when he was forcing Kei to live or deciding on which hideous chair would suit the living room best.
He remembered Shou's life, lost among the streets and the gangs and the wars that all seemed so pointless, now.
He remembered Shou's death, lost among the warehouse rubble.
He tried not to listen to the sound of tearing flesh as Shou cast away the last piece of his humanity like broken wings.
- - -
-fin
01.17.03
Moon Child fic. Kei/Shou-ish. Spoilers. Set directly after Shou's . . . change. Mad abuse of teh ellipses. (Ellipsises? Ergh?) Profanity.
under blood moon
(i can tell you why the end will never come)
"Do it. Please, Shou . . ." Kei is speaking softly, dark eyes turned to watch Shou's empty face.
Shou hasn't moved for days, hasn't spoken, hasn't . . . eaten. Kei's hand moves upwards to close over Shou's, and he cringes inwardly, feeling the tremble -- little earthquakes, bone-deep.
There is no pulse beneath his skin.
There is no blood beneath his skin.
It has been too long. Kei has spent his nights by Shou's side since he changed him, leaving only to care for Hana, and already the hunger eats at him, vertigo and the sharp twist in the pit of his stomach and he can still barely touch on what he knows Shou is going through. He can sympathize, though -- he had done the same thing, in the beginning.
Kei knows what will happen, and that is why he cannot give up.
"Shou." He closes his eyes and brings Shou's hand to his face, pressing his cheek against Shou's cold palm -- too cold, too cold, he'd been so desperate then to save Shou's warmth, the last warmth he knew, he'd been selfish but he couldn't let go, not yet.
Forgive me for this.
Shou starts, his eyes flicker towards Kei for a moment and the raw pain on the other vampire's face brings him back to himself, just barely. He is burning inside from the pain and the hunger but his mind flinches still from what giving in means. This is a craving like no other, a far cry from the want of a cigarette, closer, so much closer to the desperate obsession of deep lust.
The last barriers are breaking -- only his raw stubbornness is keeping him from plunging out the window in search of new blood.
And he remembers a time, not too long ago, when it had been Kei in the chair and he trying so fucking desperately to keep his closest alive.
But he understands now.
His fingers twitch, a ghost touch against Kei's face. The other stirs, and for a moment their eyes meet green against blue, deep sea against clear bright sky that they mayn't have anymore. They both belong to the dark, now, and Kei briefly wonders exactly how much Shou will hate him the moment he realizes how much it burns to have the sun against his skin. Kei has wondered for a long time about all the things Shou will hate him for.
He wonders if he'll be able to handle it when that time comes.
Shou's attention threatens to turn back to the yellowed, smoke-stained wall that has held his gaze for the last few days, so Kei reacts -- swiftly, he pushes up to his knees against the dirty blond carpet, drawn face hovering near Shou's and begging with so much more than his voice.
"Shou . . . please. Come with me."
There are a few seconds in which Kei thinks perhaps Shou hasn't heard him. But Shou moves so slowly Kei can almost hear the creaking of Shou's bones beneath the skin. A thought flickers across his mind, here and gone, a memory -- Shou's body, frail and human and the red-heat of Shou's pulse fluttering weakly against his tongue and teeth. Desperation, a hundred thousand years of desperation in a few seconds don'tdiedon'tyoufuckingdaredienotnow . . .
Shou should never feel this old. Kei . . . Kei wanted to keep him forever. Forever Shou, forever the child in his heart that he's loved so long. This . . . this isn't Shou. Not his Shou.
He closes his eyes.
"Kei," Shou's voice is soft, like it hasn't been used in years, like cobwebs and moonlight and dark dusty places best forgotten. "I can't do this."
"You have to do this." Kei murmurs.
Shou's hand feels like paper against his face.
"I can't! I . . . I keep seeing . . ." He didn't need to finish. Kei understood.
I keep seeing you.
Kei drew back from him and stood, turning away. "I'm sorry, Shou. So so sorry . . . I wish it could have been different. I'm sorry, but I--"
. . . I couldn't let you die. I couldn't let you leave me, not when I finally had you again.
Shou doesn't say anything, but Kei can hear clearly the static rustle of Shou's shirt shifting, the slow shrinking hush of white noise against silent room. Part of him wonders what Shou is thinking. The other part of him knows. They've been too close for too long not to, now more than ever.
He straightens, and turns back to face what he has created. Before him, Shou's nails rake against his skin, scraping against bloodless flesh and meat. "Shou," he says softly, "please, stop. This . . . this you can't control. It will get worse -- so much worse -- and then the blood lust will take you, and you will tear apart the first human you see." He pauses, briefly, and his eyes run to the dirty window, running and coming back wounded. "And you will probably regret it, like I do. I held back as long as I could, Shou, and when I finally broke a little girl died for it." A look of revulsion slides against Kei's features as he speaks, twisting his pale face into something momentarily hideous and daring Shou to look away from this.
He doesn't.
Kei holds out a hand to Shou, visibly trembling, eyes as dark as the night. "Please."
An image flickers across Shou's mind -- Hana, lifeless, her small white throat torn open, blood against pale skin and a bright yellow sundress . He imagines her blood would taste like --
-- a choked cry wrenches itself from his throat as he reaches out.
- - -
It did not take long.
Kei had misjudged Shou's control -- it had taken a great deal of strength to hold Shou back from tackling every person they crossed. They had stumbled deliriously down the sidewalks, Shou baring his teeth at those who passed as Kei apologized for his 'drunk' friend, his own instincts reacting dangerously at the thought of so much blood so close, pulses hammering just beneath their skins. But Kei knew how the game was played: he knew all the tricks to their cat-and-mouse game with the humans, how to wait in the dark alleyway for some skulking passerby to come across their tiny piece of the city's great shadow. Kei had always thanked whatever might possibly be watching over his kind for the blessed darkness and protection Mallepa's endless alleyways offered, and this time was no different. They were huddled, Kei bent over Shou's back, arms crossed over the other's chest behind a dumpster, the endless sounds of the streets nearby not quite penetrating their ink-dark corner of the alley.
When an older Japanese man had turned their way, Kei's grip on Shou had tightened just a little -- half warning, half alert. It would not do to let his prey find them, not yet.
He came closer, passing only feet from where they crouched.
Then Kei let go.
He remembered Shou as a child, and the sincere smile his pale dirty face always seemed to carry.
He remembered the way Shou had always seemed to get his way, whether it was when he was forcing Kei to live or deciding on which hideous chair would suit the living room best.
He remembered Shou's life, lost among the streets and the gangs and the wars that all seemed so pointless, now.
He remembered Shou's death, lost among the warehouse rubble.
He tried not to listen to the sound of tearing flesh as Shou cast away the last piece of his humanity like broken wings.
- - -
-fin
01.17.03