She is, trust me. Magazines don’t do the real thing justice.
Atlantits Federation doesn’t do Murrue justice, either.
And neither does Earth Alli-ass, but you’d expect that from such a shitty name.
Even if he was the first or not that the other offered a bed to without getting anything out of it, Kenta made no movement. His eyes focused on the other wall. He couldn’t look at him, not because of the scars, but just because he was afraid that would open a door of more conversation. He was afraid if he loked at him, Neo wouldn’t leave. He was afraid there might be some sort of connection created. it was stupid but that was the only main reason he didn’t look at the other.
“I ain’t taking the bed no matter what you say. I told you, I’m comfortable here.” Is all he said, not paying much else attention to dead bodies found under mattresses and stuff. he didn’t want to think of dead people at the moment.
He let out a soft sigh as Neo finally stood up, figuring the other had enough with arguing. He put his chin back on his knees, his eyes closing. Feeling the blanket being draped over his shoulders, his hands lifted to clutch on the ends, hugging it around his body.
“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” He said, not sure if he’d leave early or not. he chance of him staying though was slim. “Like I care if I’m pissing you off….” He muttered before the door had closed.
And then he was alone, in that dark empty room. He held sat up a bit, moving the blanket to be tighter around him. He put part of it over his head as he scooted further into the corner. It was silent, all that was heard was the tapping of the rain hitting the window or the creaks that came from the hallway of people passing by.
but he was use to this silence. he was use to being left alone. It wasn’t all that bad. It was just the same thing every single day.
He didn’t want to sleep but his eyes felt heavy and his body felt exhausted. Today had been busy and with fighting those punks and then freaking out over a stupid thunderstorm made the more busy day worse. He tried to keep his eyes opened, trying to tell himself that he was going to get up and go home. But he made no movement and his eyes slowly started to close. And soon, he was drifted off to sleep.
At first all he saw was darkness. But slowly an imagine was appearing and suddenly he was back at his hometown, at school. The trees had already bloomed cherry blossoms and students were talking and laughing loudly, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The dream moved however, passing the laughhing and talking kids to go inside the school building, going up the stairs and into the library and to the back. Where the lights were more dim and there were more dusty books.
Kenta’s heart started to squeeze itself and he felt sick to his stomach. Not this dream again, not this memory again. He wanted to wake up. He didn’t want to remember this one again. He didn’t want to see it again. Not again. He didn’t want to relive the memory but he had no choice.
Eyes falling on two students, a blond boy who was pinned to the ground with his mouth being covered by a hand while a black hair boy sat on top of him. The black hair male bent down, grazing those pointy white fangs across the blond’s neck. The blond kicked a bit, trying to move, trying to get his mouth from under the other’s hand but it was no use.
Kenta watched in horror as those fangs dug into the blond’s neck hungrily. It wasn’t a gentle gesture, not like he did with Neo. Red eyes stayed open as the black hair boy drank. The blond boy slowly stopped moving, face getting paler until finally the blond laid there motionless. Expression gone, eyes open but not moving.
Watching as the black hair male pulled back, looking to the side to face where Kenta stood. The black hair male was him. They were both of the same people. Though this was when Kenta was a bit younger and had recently been turned.
The imagine faded and all Kenta saw was black again. Then a sound came from behind him. Turning to look at a young teen, he noticed that this boy was also himself but still as a human. A small finger was pointed at him and his younger version opened his mouth to speak.
“It’s all your fault he’s dead! You killed my best friend! Monster!“
Kenta’s eyes fluttered opened and he sat up from laying on the ground quickly. A yell of a ‘no!’ escaping between his lips before he could stop it. His breathing was faster and if he still had a working heart it would be pounding. His face was still filled with horror as his eyes dropped to the ground.
It was early morning, the sun was just beginning to rise. Was Neo even back yet? Taking a few deep breathes, he looked back up, looking around the room if he would see the other or not.
The first thing Neo does is get on a bus. The second thing he does is curiously eye a sleeping passenger before quietly taking the man’s laptop bag in his arms. The third thing he does is get off at the first stop, and then he begins to push buttons on his little cellphone.
Being on the road for quite a while opens up opportunities for contacts; Neo talks to a familiar voice who calls themselves Firefly. Though he’s never met them personally, they always deliver. And what they specialise in (a necessity after Neo realised hospitals were a no what with him needing an identity to use it) is medical supplies. He has the laptop tucked under his arm and a serious expression on his face despite the smile in his tone. He likes to think, sometimes, that his ability to lie surely must be a gift from high above.
On the bus ride back, he has a box labelled FRESH MANDARIN ORANGES in his arms. He makes sure to stay awake so nobody can take it from him.
As Neo pushes back into the lobby of the motel, he notices in mild surprise that the electricity’s come back on. He lets out a little breath of air in relief, and as he looks at the receptionist at the front desk, he lefts both his shoulders in a silent question about his box. A jerked thumb says that Neo can bring it upstairs. Thank God for that.
He manages to open the door with one hand, but he uses the shape of his hip to nudge it open. He carefully puts the box down in a corner, but the first and only thing he paid attention to upon his return was the fact that Kenta’s still on the goddamned floor.
Fuckin’ punk. Neo doesn’t know what he’s going to do with such a difficult kid. On the very off-chance that he manages to survive the morning without making Kenta want to snap his neck, he won’t have anything left up his sleeve. Both literally and metaphorically. Strictly speaking, he’s accepted the imminent failure, but he continues anyway. And, yeah, it involves things that are under his imaginary jacket sleeve.
He boots up the laptop, taking it out of his orange box, and with some work and extra lines of code he manages to get it connected to the Internet via the motel’s phone lines. Even that success, however, is limited, and the Internet cuts off on him every so often. It’s irritating, but not as irritating as it could be. Honestly, there’s also the fact that fundamentally, it’s not too important–there’re more imminent things he has to keep stuck to the forefront of his brain. But it’s also annoying as hell. And Neo only thinks this because, shit, what the hell is he doing?
Upon pulling up a generic search engine, he types in a query. Soon after reading through the various results on that one, he continues on with a map system, and he checks routes from place to different place. Neo performs all of this while seated on the floor. If Kenta’s not sleeping on the mattress and the freshly fluffed pillow, then Neo’s leaving it to the ghosts that lurk here.
He gently folds the laptop closed and slides it back into its case. He’s memorised the name, face, and address of the man he took it from in the little brush of the identification card around his neck. Neo will return it later.
He heads to his cargo and pulls the flaps open. The box of fresh Mandarin oranges has syringes and empty bags inside, gloves and alcohol and things used for heavy disinfecting. Neo, grumbling a little about the hassle, takes those cleaning materials and moves to the bathroom to subject his hands to deep cleaning. Once over, however, he returns again, seated on the floor and careful not to touch anything. Neo puts on gloves, and then that’s all.
His index and middle finger search for his radial pulse before slowly trickling up his forearm. He finds a spot of particular interest, and with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball he begins to clean the area and its surrounding skin. The smallest hints of heavy scarring peek underneath Neo’s shirtsleeve. He searches for the rubber strap to tie around his forearm, and then he replaces the cotton ball with another item.
He takes a clean syringe. Ripping the package open with his teeth, he doesn’t hesitate in moving the needle close and close and closer again. His fist tightens towards the end, increasing his blood pressure, and then he slowly eases the needle to break through his skin. Neo gently uses his thumb to slide the plunger up. The barrel of the needle fills with crimson liquid, and he transfers that to plastic bag number one.
This continues until he has three bags filled, and by this point Neo’s head is spinning again. He’s very careful with his movements, the room seeing to wobble right under his feet, but the trade off isn’t bad at all. He closes the three different points used to draw blood (one of them requiring him to fold up a leg of his jeans), taping cotton to the affected areas. Neo forgoes rolling his pants sleeve back down, though. Too much pressure on the wound would be bad.
When Kenta starts shaking, that’s when Neo starts to worry, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. His frame is trembling on the floor, only covered by the blanket the slightest bit. It’s so sad to look at Neo feels guilty for letting it happen, though he remembers that ultimately it’s the kid’s fault he’s down there. He disposes of his used materials and pulls the cotton off when he knows his blood has clotted on its own. The bags are placed very carefully on the bedside table.
It’s probably bad that all Neo wants to do is scoop the kid up and hold him through the shivers again. But consider him hooked the moment he’d felt the tight clutch of those hands in that forgotten slice of the city. Cold as he is, Kenta still needs people. And though Neo knows he’s probably not the best bet this kid has, he may as well be the only one stubborn enough to stay.
Neo sits at the boy’s feet instead of in front of his face. He leans his head back against the wall, one knee raised and the other folded towards the side, and quietly closes his eyes. He takes as much rest as he can. But then the boy wakes up shouting and that rest ends up lasting only a whopping five minutes.
From the crazed look in the vampire’s eye, and the way he’d been shaking in his sleep, Neo knows that it’s a nightmare. What he doesn’t know is the circumstance, and he doesn’t think Kenta’s going to tell him anything, either.
"Morning, princess.”
He doesn’t move to touch Kenta right away, instead remaining seated and watching him out of the corner of his eye. Neo’s voice is as carefree as it always sounds, but there’s an ominous, heavy tone that clings to its underbelly. “Sleep well?”
It’s a rhetorical question they both know the answer to, and Neo doesn’t push any further. The hidden question in the undercurrent of his words stands out loud and clear, though. Do you want to talk about it? He’s seated for a while, electric blue eyes highlighted in the soft shades of early morning sunlight through the slots in the windows. He watches Kenta with a sort of intensity. But eventually he stands and nabs a bag of blood, and without further ado he puts it on the space in front of the young man.
“One pint.” His voice is quiet. “Consider it breakfast. And no, shut up, don’t fight me about this. Just accept it and move on.”