Tossing these two little scarian snip its out here from the medical horror vampire au I've been working . This is from the second chapter, been wondering if it's something people would be interested in.
tw for blood!
Scar let a frustrated sigh slip from his lips, tossing paperwork back onto the surface in front of him. The subject across from him followed the movement of his head tilting as he leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair.
“You know,” Scar started, “you could at least tell me your name?” He paused, looking back down at the papers he discarded and quickly flipped through them, locating the patient's listed identification number. “It doesn't feel right having to refer to you as a glorified serial number, or just the patient… or the subject…”
Scar felt that he was muttering his thoughts to himself at this point, with his ever-silent companion on the other side of the glass. Lost in thought staring at the numbers at the top of the patient file, Scar missed the first blink the other man would ever give him.
”Grian,” the blond man said slowly, voice sounding scratchy from a lack of use.
Scar’s head shot back up to look at him. He wasn't looking at Scar for the first time in all of his visits to the room. Instead, his gaze lingered on the floor, as if he were suddenly shy, or embarrassed maybe? “Wha-“ Scar began trying to let his racing thoughts catch up with his mouth, before realizing this must be the man's name. “Grian? That's your name?”
The subject, Grian, gave the slightest hint of a nod at Scar’s words, still not looking at him.
Scar felt giddy with excitement. This was so much progress! More than he expected, even if it was only a single word. He finally had a name for the man he’d been having one-sided conversations with for more than a week. And that’s a great start!
He tried pushing for more, but he got nothing else out of Grian from that session.
The next day, when it was time for Scar’s daily interrogation of Grian, he was met with the usual silence. He was hoping that with the breakthrough of a name, they could continue to make a little more progress each day, but Grian didn't seem to budge. The only noticeable difference in his behavior was perking up slightly upon hearing Scar say his name.
Scar pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head. “I don't get it, I thought we were on the right track! Come on, Grian! Can you please answer any of these questions? Pretty please?” he asked, offering a generous pause. He got no response, so he added, “These questions are here to help us help you. You answered your name question just fine yesterday!” he exclaimed, lifting his arms in defeat as he finished.
Grian narrowed his eyes at him, then huffed. “You don't ask the right questions.”
Scar's jaw nearly hit the floor. Grian just spoke a whole sentence! He sputtered for a moment, trying to think of how best to approach what to say next. “How so?” he eventually settled on, raising a brow.
Grian pursed his lips. Clearly he didn't want to talk, yet he continued. “When you said you didn’t like referring to me as a number, it made me less of a person to you. I agreed. So I told you my name.”
-Grian gets fed ^_^-
(Grain drinking his cup of scar blood) He stared in equal parts shock and horror at the display, but there was another emotion bubbling right beneath the surface. One that made his stomach burn—one he wanted to deny.
Blood spilled out from the corners of Grian’s lips as he swallowed his last mouthful of blood. Scar’s blood. The blond sitting in front of him gave a small, satisfied sigh, then reluctantly lowered the glass away from his lips. His face twisted in a way that implied he might be fighting the urge to chase it with his tongue, to lick the glass beaker clean.
Scar was transfixed on the blood slowly trailing down the man’s chin, gravity taking its course as a drop finally gathered enough crimson to drip onto the sterile white medical gown below—a vibrant pop of color against the all-white clinical room. Scar sucked in a breath, breaking Grian out of his fixation on the beaker, sights now set on him. Grian’s eyes were no longer dominated by the black of his pupils, but this close to the shorter man’s eyes, Scar could see that in the deep, dark brown, there was definitely red.
“Scar,” Cub hissed at him behind the glass in warning. Scar swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat forming out of panic. He didn’t listen. Grian was done with his ‘medicine,’ and Scar was still there while he very much shouldn’t be. The brunet’s eyes flickered over to the exit.
