Alex reaches out, lays a steadying hand on Ace because he’s going to throw up if he doesn’t have someone to brace himself against in light of what he’d done. He stares at the dying man in horror, fingers clenching tighter around Ace’s upper arm. “Oh fuck.” Alex had yet to curse in front of the other man, but desperate times …
He cannot look away. Blood pools into the street’s cobblestone, seeping into the cracks staining road where they stood.
Ace had seen a dog once, way back at home during a blistering August in Argentina. He was young, maybe five and all he could do was stare. He had no clue what happened to it -maybe the stray picked a fight he couldn’t handle, more than he could chew- but it lay against the gravel and stone, mouth agape like fish gasping for air a final attempt at a breath. He must’ve scared it, and much like the man before them, the dog had twitched as it lay in his own blood in the hot rays of sun, enlarged pupils looking right back as it baked in the sun.
He barely felt the grasp on his arm, nor the panic in the younger companion’s voice. Everything seemed far away. He feels pale looking at the scene or knows he should be, watching some stranger choke, gargling on their own blood. The man’s hands scramble to his own junglier, fingers trembling as it oozes down neck and shoulder staining the white cloth of his shirt. Some other, newer part of himself can’t pull his gaze away from it. Ace can feel it. Hear it. The rhythmic drum of adrenaline, the body’s one last run of fear and need to survive. Prey having fell victim to its hunter.
A twitching, uneasy turn of his lips and a scrunch of the nose. Be it a mistake or not, it was calling like a moth to a flame.
“Mierda..” A thick swallow, digits grip the other man’s shoulder finally in response drawing eyes away from the dying man, panic carving into his features. The smell, it burns into his stomach and nostrils. “We gotta go..” He says it again, more than a whisper this time, taking a glance around the empty market square shaking Alex’s arm as the panic began to settle into his bones. “We gotta go, now.”
He shouldn’t be able to hyperventilate now that he’s a vampire, should he? But he finds himself doing just that. Alex can barely keep steady on his feet. If he weren’t holding onto Ace he’d be on the ground, drowning in the blood – if he could drown. At this rate he has no idea what he’s capable of anymore or what he’s susceptible to, other than a bloodlust that he had no control over. As soon as they were attacked, blood was spilled, he had tried, but he couldn’t stop himself from tearing into their throats. His stomach twists, nausea almost overwhelming him, but before he can fall to his knees Ace holds onto his shoulder and keeps him anchored.
“Where do we go?” Alex asks with a trembling voice, forcing his focus to shift from the dying men to Ace. The other man is as unsteady as he is, and seeing Ace unnerved is the equivalent of a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. Alex gathers himself then nods, “Sure, yeah, I think there’s a safehouse or some kind of place we can go lie low at.” It was a place he hadn’t visited for himself personally, but he knew about it. Most of his time had been spent avoiding places like this but, it was kind of inevitable now. He gives one last look at the soon to be corpses and turns, fleeing towards a nearby alley that they can use to cut through the city. They’ll need to avoid the main roads so as not to get any unwanted attention.
The streets weren’t safe for mortals or for them. Especially not for Alex now that he’d made such a colossal mess of things. Alex keeps moving, because the second he stops is the second he collapses and he doesn’t want to have a break down in front of Ace – can’t have one in front of the other man, so he keeps going. Once they’re further towards the docks he slows down, taking the routes a little bit slower and peering around corners because he knows the kinds of people that wander these streets.
“I’m sorry Ace.” He whispers.
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