"I was just making sure you didn’t already pay for another motel. No need to bite my head off, Neo." Kenta watches him, and let him walk inside on his own. The black hair boy slowly moved to pick up the toolbox, sighing deeply.
Should he just go? The other was in a pissy mood as it was. He’d probably just make it worse. He was starting to regret ever coming to meet him now. If he knew this is how things would end up, he wouldn’t have bothered not showing up. But what if Neo needed someone?
He moved into the lobby, following Neo as he was walking up the stairs. He stopped at the hallway, watching as Neo went into the room and shut the door. Debating on whether to go in and not ran through his mind. But he made himself keep walking. If Neo needed someone then he should stay. He opened the door, closing it softly. He put the toolbox down gently and looked into the bathroom. He watched Neo for a moment before he moved to sit on the bed.
He stared at his hands that lay in his lap. He listened to all the sounds that were coming from the bathroom, if he knew Neo could stitch himself up with one hand, he would have never brought up the hospital. God, just how stupid could he be? It seemed like he couldn’t do anything right anymore and he made everything worse. Perhaps that’s also a reason why he avoided human contact with anyone,
He didn’t know what Neo was thinking. It probably wasn’t good. He lifted his head when it seemed like Neo was done stitching himself up. He stood from the bed, slowly walking closer, almost hesitant. He wondered if he would get yelled at for still sticking around. Hadn’t he done enough harm already tonight? His eyes moved to the knuckles that had turned white from Neo clentching his hand into a fist so tightly.
What was he suppose to do?
It felt like if he tried saying anything, it would only make Neo more upset. But he couldn’t help him if he didn’t talk to him.
Kenta ignored the smell of blood as he stepped into the bathroom and went behind Neo. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s waist, putting his forehead against his back gently. Damnit. Just what was he suppose to do? How could he make Neo talk to him? How could he make him feel better again? He was so closed off.. just like he was with other people..
Wow. He didn’t realize how similar they were.
"I’m sorry…" He finally stated in a soft whisper. "I’m sorry for whatever I said or did.. I didn’t mean any harm.. I was just trying to help… If I knew before hand that you could stitch yourself up with one hand.. I wouldn’t have brought the subject up." He didn’t dare say hospital, just in case that was it. "If that was what upset you so much.. if that’s what made you shut down… I’m sorry." He paused for another moment, wondering if Neo would push him away. "I don’t want to say anything that will make you more upset.. I just want to help.. But I don’t know how to, that’s why I need you to talk to me Neo…Please..?"
He bit his lower lip. His chest hurt now, an aching feeling . He hadn;’t felt this feeling since he was human. Why was he feeling it now? He swallowed back a lump that was forming in his throat and he blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes.
"Gomenasai." He whispered even softer, his voice a bit shaky now.
Neo Roanoke doesn’t yell.
It is perhaps the only saving grace he has. He does not yell. The sound of the other male shifting in the doorway has his teeth gnashing together with a horrible noise in his skull, and something like frustration but a lot more like rage builds up inside of him, but no sound passes from his lips aside from the breaths that he takes. He doesn’t turn to look at him, doesn’t open his mouth to speak, and watches Kenta through the mirror without moving a muscle. He’s still tense and nervous, unable to relax like he’s just come out of a near-death situation, and his pupils follow the vampire’s movements until the kid’s standing right behind him.
And then… arms.
They link around him with an almost frightening firmness, and the soft touch of Kenta’s head against his back is as steady a comfort as the limbs that stay around his middle. Neo’s eyes don’t widen, but there’s a slight twitch to his lower lip; it’s a small, almost unnoticeable tremble. A cloud of confusion begins to haze over his brain, and negative feelings drench his soul like the rainwater of a storm. Neo’s words still fail him, and he continues to lean against the sink with his eyes staring at the clash of colour between Kenta’s arms and the cloth of his own shirt.
He was going to take him there, though. That Neo can’t forget. Even through the apologies, through the explanations, through the soft quality to Kenta’s voice and the steady feel of the young man against Neo’s back–that’s all he can think about. Kenta had been ready, so ready, to admit him to strangers. To trust him in the hands of people who cut other people open because they want money, and not because they care. Like deja vu the acrid scent of rubber begins to take over his senses, and it takes the little strands of self-control Neo has left not to curl in on himself in hatred.
He doesn’t want to see another doctor again for as long as he lives. He doesn’t want a scalpel to slice his skin. He doesn’t want tubes sticking out of him. He doesn’t want to hear the steady beep of a heart monitor, turning the pumping muscle of his life into a mechanical instrument. Neo doesn’t want to go back again. He doesn’t want to become a puppet again. He has nothing: no past, no future, no people to depend on–but at least he has a choice. And to have that freedom ripped from him again scares him more than anything else in the world.
Hurts him more than anything else in the world.
More than the way Kenta sounds when he whispers ‘please’ under his breath.
On any other day, he would’ve turned around and wrapped his own arms around him. He would’ve thrown caution to the wind, pulled Kenta to his chest, and lost himself in the way he feels so strongly for the young man. Neo cares for him–he doesn’t think he can keep that secret with how dedicated he is to getting the vampire back in some kind of working order–and to know that he’s cared for as well would have broken all his walls down with the strength of a thousand hammers. They are meant to separate, of course; this is the fate that was made of them not only because Kenta doesn’t need attachments, but also because Neo can’t afford them. Despite this, Neo’s humanity still fails him. And it still gives him some undeniable urge to keep Kenta as safe as he can.
He realises, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the one who’s hurting the kid is him. The tool he turns into when he’s stripped of his mentality and the emotions that make him human is making Kenta ache. His eyes are still ice instead of sky, though–his jaw is still set, his fingers are still wrapped tight around the edge of the porcelain sink. Neo doesn’t say anything for a time that could span a few seconds to hours.
The stinging of his hand is a reminder of why he’s cowered into this half-human shell of himself.
Kenta was going to give him up to his tormentors.
He’s too raw to forgive him. Neo’s too wrapped up in his demons to feel an ounce of compassion. He’s too angry at the notion of being betrayed by someone he’s begun to care for dearly to accept his apology and his pleases and his beautiful desires to put the mismatched pieces of Neo back together. He’s not angry so much as he’s apathetic, though–because when you feel nothing, then it isn’t possible to fear. To hurt. To bleed.
The sink drips, a lone sliver of water hitting the porcelain. Neo’s gaze finally lifts from the arms around him to his own face reflected in the bathroom mirror.
“You were going to let me go.”
His voice is hushed like he’s speaking some forbidden secret, but the lack of inflection is clear. Neo finally turns, hair brushing over his shoulder as he glances at the top of Kenta’s head out of the corner of his eye, and he stares without any feeling. “You were willing to let them cut me open. Use me. Experiment on me.”
His words form what almost sounds like a snarl, but it never raises–never goes above conversational level, never turns into a shout. “They’re monsters and you were ready to shove me back into their cage.” If he clenches his hands any further, his stitches are going to re-open, and that’s the only thing that keeps him from doing it. Neo’s entire expression freezes over like ice.
“If you hate me that much, and if you have any ounce of mercy,” he hisses out, the muscles in his arms tightening, “I’d rather you kill me than keep me alive to take me to them.”