* nixon reynolds
He could tell that the human didn’t even believe the words he was saying. They were mixed with confusion, anger, and disbelief. Nixon would have felt guilt if he was any other person, but he’d lost most of his emotions long ago. He’d never been kind, nor empathetic, and watching August struggle with his life was nothing more but amusing. The human was a way to pass the time, but now Nixon was finished dealing with him. He would never allow August to truly get away – to tell his shapeshifter sibling that he was being attacked by a vampire. No, things had already gone far enough.
“Do you love someone?” He asked finally, the question seemingly far off from what they had originally been talking about. In fact, it seemed almost cruel to make August think of the people that would miss him most. “Is anyone going to miss you when you die?” Nixon could hear August’s heart pounding against his rib cage. The rapid beating giving away the man’s fear. But again, Nixon had never been kind. He had been jaded for over a century, now. The world was cruel, and he chose to be crueler.
It had been weeks, months since this had all begun. But it was an odd feeling, as if it were some distant memory, some fleeting moment that August couldn’t quite grasp. Each time that Nixon left him bleeding in an alley way, the memories of what had happened went with him. It was for this reason, that his mind couldn’t quite formulate how he should be feeling. Confusion, angry, fear; the emotions flickered through him, shifting so quickly that he was sure he’d get whiplash from it all. And as that happened, his hands didn’t cease trying to remove Nixon’s from him. It didn’t matter though, as he should have known, given the amount of movies he’d watched. And in all of them, there was one continuous theme: vampires had some inhuman goddamn strength.
It was the question, however, that suddenly ceased his movements. Do you love someone? There seemed to be such a mundane quality about it. As if it were meant to be asked of someone over a drink, and not in some dark alley in the middle of the night. Eyes narrowed on the vampire’s face, hoping to see through and understand what this meant. August wouldn’t have to wait long, as the second question rolled off the other’s tongue. When you die. The words were spoken so blatantly, as if Nixon asked this of everyone he crossed paths with. But the strange thing about it...August had considered the question more times than he could likely count.
With a heart that threatened to give out at any moment, there was always the speculation of who would miss him. Who his death would hurt the most. And it was always the same answers: Asher, Lia, his parents, the boys down at the station. The ones that had been consistent in his life, that had been there even when he was at his worst. “Yes,” came the final answer, which happened to be the same for both of them. “And they’ll find out what you’ve done. You know that, right?”
