That night haunted him. It haunted him in a strange way.
After passing out on the street, he woke up later in a hospital bed, to the beep of machines monitoring his vital signs, a bag of blood and an IV hooked up to the pit of his arm, and bandages around his neck. He felt impossibly fatigued and his head was absolutely killing him, no pun intended. Bookman was there to greet him, the old man trying not to look it but worried sick.
There were cops, of course, and doctors. They wanted to ask him questions about that night and what happened. They came back three separate times. The first two times, Bookman sent them away so he could rest. After the third time of confused, mixed details about how maybe it was a dog or maybe it was just some crazy guy hopped up on drugs but he couldn’t remember, they didn’t come back.
He kept trying to make sense of it himself, but try as he might, every explanation seemed to lead back to one conclusion: vampire. Somehow he thought they’d of believed that even less than the explanations he’d made up. At worst they’d think he was delusional and not just because of blood loss, or that he was the one on drugs.
He was discharged after about two days and advised on bed rest and regular meals at home for a couple more to regain his blood volume. But try as he might to put the incident behind him, he can’t help remembering gleaming fangs and glowing eyes, and he can’t forget that feeling.
The feeling of dying. Cold creeping through every limb, anxiety in his chest like a frightened bird stuck in a cage with nowhere to go, the sense of helplessness to the predator that has him trapped and his life blood seeping out…
It stalks his dreams and gives him chills down his spine, and yet… something is left wanting. Craving. Reaching for that feeling again, for reasons he can’t really explain…
No. He can explain it. Its a dangerous curiosity, but he wonders… is that the feeling that… he had felt, just before the end? Was that was it was like when he’d died? The idea circulates without pause, over and over, until he’s sure it will drive him mad, and the memory of that sensation isn’t enough. It isn’t clear enough. It isn’t real enough in the here and now.
So he does something considerably foolish. He goes looking. Down the alleyway where it happened. Down the ones near it. Down the ones away from it. With a stake in hand, and having few explanations behind what possessed him to follow this course, he goes chasing alleyways hoping just one will have that vampire in it. Eventually, one does, and for all the thought he’d put behind this, he’s honestly lost on what to do next once he finds it.
What is he supposed to say? What is he even doing?
Really. What is he doing?
He has no idea, but he’s here now, a stake in hand, a vampire in front of him, and his heart beating just a little bit faster with some feeling he can’t identify. He thinks its fear, but it doesn’t feel exactly like fear.
After too long silent, trying to figure himself out, he manages to muster something like a glare, flexing and readjusting his fingers over the stake.
whether this human was extremely stupid or high is hard for kanda to determine. he doesn’t know why anyone would come back to him for payback, but he hums, eyes narrowing. a brow quirks almost in surprise, but he tries not to let that show as he takes a step toward lavi.
“ i really didn’t think you were that stupid. ” the vampire growls, eyes focusing on the stake. he has to get that out of lavi’s hands somehow. “ but i know now that you are. ” another step toward lavi is taken and the dark-haired man snarls, lips curling back over fangs glistening in the dim light of night.
he had already had a bit to eat tonight, putting someone out of their misery. the unfortunate soul was bleeding out, though, so he hadn’t had much to drink, but... perhaps lavi could sate that remaining hunger.
he knows he can’t rush into it, though. he had to plan out his attack and avoid getting stabbed. it’s funny to him. considering when he was still human, it was him that did the stabbing. but now... he had to avoid it. how ironic.
“ i let you go last time. why are have you returned for this supposed ‘payback’, rabbit? ”
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