Kenta looked down at his hands that moved between his and Neo’s body. His arms trembled slightly as he listened to Neo’s question. At first he didn’t answer him until Neo asked the next question. It was slightly correct. Yes he was afraid to lose control with humans. He wasn’t as scared to lose it with other vampires because they were probably stronger than he was. But he didn’t want to rely on other vampires. Just like he didn’t want to rely on Riku or Hikaru for blood, even if drinking from them could stabilize him for a few days.
"I never wanted to become this way…" He starts out. "I never wanted to be immortal, I never wanted super speed, super strength. I never wanted a very, very long life span. I never wanted any of this. I want my normal life back. I want my family back, my friends back.. I don’t want to be craving blood anymore. I don’t want to be drinking it because it’s a reminder that… that my human days are gone. That I’ll never get the life I had before becoming this back…" He knew he was babbling and not really answering Neo’s questions at the moment. "I want to feed as much as little… Until… Until I find that man… who’s responsible for this."
With the arm wrapping around his shoulder, he leaned his body more against Neo’s. He didn’t push the other way, he didn’t move his head away from him. He couldn’t because right now, he couldn’t put up that strong facade. He stared down at his hands, opening his mouth to speak once more, to finally answer Neo’s question.
"Yes… I am afraid to lose control." He drew in a deep breath. "But I’m not just scared to lose control on others… I’m afraid I’ll lose myself. I can feel it.. every time I drink from someone else, whether it be vampire or human.. I can feel myself slipping away from humanity. That monster inside getting stronger. Just like that man wanted…"
Kenta shook his head slightly. “Do you really think you can help me? You sure as hell got your work cut out for you. If you desire to fix someone, you should look for someone less complicated, don’t you think?”
Kenta’s confession makes Neo’s heart sink to his stomach, beating organ suddenly reduced to nothing but useless stone. This is nothing like the last time Neo held him (but for a ‘no attachments’ sort of gig, he shouldn’t be holding the kid at all), this is not a child afraid of the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning. This is an adult speaking of impulse and humanity. The words and the tone of voice Kenta uses, albeit desolate in their own way, are all reminiscent of the highest maturity.
Kenta Hayashi is not a kid, and Neo knows that. It doesn’t quite cancel out the fact that he’s startled over the seriousness trapped inside him, though. The guy’s a brat so often it’s easy to pretend he’s a kid, but for all Neo knows, Kenta’s older than he looks–the concept of vampire ageing escapes him radically.
The question makes him wonder. Can he help Kenta? In six days, is there even the smallest drop of hope for the poor boy in his arms? Neo thinks about it. He considers. And though he knows the logical decision would be to stay away, to leave before he ends up hurting not only himself but also the person he’s holding close to him right now, a stubborn part of his soul won’t allow him to simply lose his grip and let Kenta walk the tightrope of uncertainty alone.
Neo hates himself a lot for it, for his emotional impulsiveness. He used to make difficult decisions without a bat of an eye.
But that Neo had been a cruel man. That Neo had willingly sent children to their death for the sake of a selfish organisation’s lust for power, had erased their memories, allowed them to be tortured by playing with their heads… that Neo had let people he loved suffer.
It’s not that he loves Kenta. That’s a stretch for two days. But he cares for him, and that’s good enough.
"I don’t want to fix someone,” he says almost stubbornly. “I want to help fix you.”
His thumb flutters once more over where Kenta’s pulse point should be, and then it’s slipping, touching the curve of his chin as Neo pulls back slightly. He tips the young man’s head up, searches for his eyes with his own, and he prays that Kenta can see the truth in them–the honesty, as brutal and illogical and possibly wounding it might look. His index finger curls beneath the brunet’s chin, warm against the frozen flesh, and when Neo swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“Listen, Kenta, I’m not a hero.” Neo shakes his head. “No. I’m not helping you because I have some fetish involving good deeds. I li–… I want to help you because you’re you. Because you’re suffering and it’s never a good idea to do that alone.” His hand is still holding Kenta’s chin up, his arm still curved around the young man’s narrower shoulders, and he breathes in through his nose. “I think… you’ve never wanted help. And I get that. That’s why I’m not going to stay forever, that’s why I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything from you in return. I just want you…” Neo trails off. “I want you to be able to be all right, even if it’s just for a few seconds. I want you to be Kenta Hayashi.”
The corner of his mouth curves slightly, tentatively. “You’re a vampire, yes. You have control issues, yes. But what you’ve physically become isn’t you. You’re…” He struggles with his words, frustrated. Neo goes through a couple muttered phrases in French, hating himself for his inability to continue, before finally giving in to the first things that had come into his head. “You’re the person who tore off a piece of his shirt to wrap my hand. The one who wanted to know if I had a good night’s sleep, who got angry at me for taking out so much blood in one go, who didn’t care about his humanity when a thunderstorm hit–
"You… seem like so much more than you think you are. That’s what it looks like to me. And it’s a damn shame to have this vampirism eclipse you.” Neo’s hand finally slips from Kenta’s chin, moving over his chest, over where his heart is. “This thing might not be beating any more, but it still works. I don’t think it’ll ever stop. working, too. And I want to make sure of that.”
Neo’s voice drops into a soft whisper, thumb brushing over Kenta’s covered chest. His eyes are bright even in the dim light around them. “Little do you know, I have a knack for making the impossible, possible.”