“I’m incapable of snoring, I don’t breathe.” He muttered, knowing that even Sam wasn’t that dense but for the sake of arguments he felt the need to point it out, again. “Or, I do when I want to talk but obviously it’s pointless when I…sleep, not that I actually sleep.” By then May caught himself before he, once again, said more than he wished to. How odd was it that Sam brought that out of him when he loathed telling people anything about himself.
People, as a rule, were judgmental assholes, both when he had been alive and after death because in both cases he had been considered something below their acknowledging to be a person. So they didn’t get a damn thing from him, not one detail of his real life, they didn’t deserve it and all those things he was perfectly happy to carry to his grave for the second time just to keep anyone else from knowing.
Which made it incredibly frustrating how much that idiot was almost easier to talk to knowing that Sam was outside the realms of human himself.
It was unacceptable on so many levels that he was starting to feel any sort of steadiness around Sam when he knew damn well that people couldn’t be trusted to even remember he existed once he was no longer interesting to them.
Bitterness, yes, but just as much it was because May refused to do that to himself ever again.
Real clarity came in those moments after, when the question was still burning under his skin with his body tense and that resounding idiot decided to step back into his space and touch him. The growl was right there at his lips, just barely drawn back over the edge of teeth, an unstable mix of anger and confusion gleaming in his eyes. Demands he was used to, narrowed eyes and cold edges; things he knew how to process and react to. Maybe not in healthy ways but reaction none the less.
“I will bite you if you don’t leave me alone right now.” Through clenched teeth it was the only warning he would offer and more than he granted other people, extended solely for the fact that Sam had caught him so off guard with his actions.
But sharing those details? Giving more of himself up? Sam was asking dangerous questions that he did not want the answers to, curiosity was irritating at times but May had shouldered it a few days because it fit into his plans but that was no longer the case.
What took the place of dismissal was a chilly trickle of panic down his spine over not knowing what to do, a sensation that was so much worse than anger because that, the uncertainty, was new. He didn’t understand the motives, they weren’t clear, deciphering them was how he dealt with people but Sam was not acting the ways he expected. The gargoyle’s curiosity was baffling, the demand was not one he was prepared for. People drew away much sooner, out of annoyance or repulsion, so what sort of madness afflicted Sam that he sounded so earnest in his question?
“Tell you what? You really think you want to know anything?” A cornered animal would always cower or attack, May would have rather gathered a few more wounds under his already flawed surface than draw back in defeat. For a terrifying instant though he had almost waned to answer honestly and see where it all fell after, he wasn’t sure why it felt like seeing disgust from Sam might have been worse; he didn’t let people do that to him. He didn’t let them get closer than snapping at arms length.
“People don’t. Maybe it’s some fucked up curiosity that makes them think they do until there’s that line where it makes their stomach turn. I’m not giving anyone the satisfaction of judging me over that anymore.”
There was nothing in his tone that wavered but May’s thoughts were a dizzy blur, for once not sure where or how the conversation would crash to an end .
Confrontation, yes, he understood that but not the version Sam offered, not with that tangle of coaxing to the words that he almost wanted to believe.
But May was ultimately just what he was, eye narrowed and incapable of taking any show of potential concern with easy acceptance. He had warned Sam, his mental state was not sound, there was too much weighing on him with that confusion creeping more evident into his expression the longer Sam wouldn’t allow him to recoil. It was all right at the cusp of turning very bad.
“I heard you the first time,” he gave right back, that touch of a grin lingering at the corner of his mouth, “you don’t breathe.” He could see how it could be unsettling to some, that lack of proof of life. He’d seen plenty of dead bodies in his time, and having a corpse on his living room floor wasn’t a first. It was, however, a first knowing that he’d be up and moving at some point. And Sam, being Sam, saw more benefits to the notion than not.
Watching him, it took some effort not to let that grin take over – he was rambling again, and while it had become something he appreciated it, the zombie’s ramblings usually left Sam with a million more questions than he started with. “So if you don’t sleep, you’re just, what? Dead?” He didn’t flat out ask what the point was, because even he knew that was rude. Still, it hovered.
The gargoyle gave away more of himself these days than he did before, useless bits of information – though, he’s learned nothing is ever really useless to a determined person – so there was a part of him that could understand the closed off nature that was May. Which was why Sam willing gave whenever the other did. The two were similar in more ways than what people would assume, and he liked to keep an even playing field as much as he could.
In his space, he kept a close eye on the other’s expression, watched the way his mouth moved as he issued that warning. Serious as it may have been, Sam let out a little snort of a laugh. It was no threat to him, he quite liked the violence that some people could carry with him. He leaned in, his head dipping down to come closer to May’s. “Then bite me.” He had half a mind to run his thumb along his lips, but he still wasn’t quite sure how quick either one of them were, should he want to save that finger. Instead, he dragged the very tip of his thumb over his bottom lip. A quick, sweeping motion to tug.
Surprisingly, he was speaking again, though. And despite all the efforts to try and keep everything to himself, Sam was selfish. Admittedly so. Beyond the fascination and interest he let show for the other, there was an appreciation and understanding, and it wasn’t often he found that with others. Not like this, never in such a dark way.
There were depths in their respective histories that went untouched, undiscovered by anyone. Save for Aidan, finding someone you didn’t have to hamper that with was unheard of here.
And he wanted it. Greedily. Obsessively. Selfishly.
So he pushed, albeit a bit aggressively for most, but he knew no other way.
“You still think this is just about twisted curiosities?” The corner of his mouth twitched, the quick flash of an amused grin. “You think I’ve sought you out and asked you to stay because you amuse me?” This time, he did let out a laugh. That low rumble of a sound that seemed to stop just at the base of his throat.
Explanations had never been a strong suit for him, in any matter. But explaining himself had always been an impossibility. His hands against his face adjusted, found an even sturdier position as fingers slid down to the sides of his neck. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, but how am I supposed to help keep you alive if I don’t know hardly seemed like it was it.
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