rin wasn't supposed to be here in the first place.
he was supposed to be at home, nursing his own...problems...with what one might call 'home remedies', which involved his hand and a few other objects he would usually be too shy to name. if rin had been any less considerate and any smarter, he would’ve cancelled on a ‘reading session’, yet there he sat, trying to keep his hands to himself and his breathing to a minimum. it was the last day of his heat cycle and, really, he should have learned from previous experience.
no longer was he leaning against her; his gaze was directed someplace (anyplace) else but her. he pinched his nose once -- twice -- oh god, what kind of enchanting voodoo magic scent was she wearing? and -- oh no -- he made the mistake of looking at her again. he sidled away from her some, and quickly turned away. (why did she have to wear that shade of lipstick -- had she always been wearing it?)
on any normal day he would’ve interrupted her reading, and now would have been a very, very good time to before his imagination wandered. but he’d always been so polite and considerate that he didn’t want to seem rude and blurt out something along the lines of: i can’t wait to hear you scream my name.
Break Me: I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.
you remember us, right?
his voice is clear in her head and she sees him talk: a memory, she's sure.
something tightens around her throat and for a moment she cannot speak, and it amazes her that she can. somehow. her voice feels unlike her own; it's too rough, too drained by time.
"i don't want to anymore."
—
rin pays attention to the little things.
small things, like the quirk of her brow and the way her eyes became little crescents when she smiles and the corners wrinkle a bit, and all her other mannerisms that she never seems to notice. like the way her voice changed when she read him stories. like how she would reach for his hand when they were walking, for no apparent reason (and how maybe he liked to intertwine their fingers just because, and how she didn't pull away).
sometimes it's the big things, too, like how she'd make fun of him sometimes (read: all the time) and then kiss him right after. or how she stayed by his side that one time he worked himself sick. or the way her voice sounds when she reads, lost in the story as he is in her. or how she would cuddle with him on occassion and she won't feel as cold as she would and he won't, either, and it was as if she was his own personal heater rather than the other way around.
it was only when he realised that he was paying way too much attention that he also realised that he might just love her.
it began as a thought, but thoughts always gave way before action and before he knew it he was in love again -- except this time his very nature could not stop itself from imprinting.
he was only glad that she didn't push him away.
—
this is not how you're supposed to be like, lil.
her face contorts into pure agony and grief and she wonders why her own mind would torment her so. she knows -- she knows -- this isn't how she's supposed to be -- how they're supposed to be. fingers dig into her scalp and she closes her eyes and wills for him to stay, even if it is only in memory.
"i don't need you to remind me." it comes out as half a sob; sadness is such a cruel illness, and something that she has never recovered from. "i know, tharin."
—
it's not long before they start living together.
she doesn't seem to mind him, which is great, and amazing, and wonderful, because every part of him wants to see her every day even though he knows he can't. and when he does, there is an outpour of kisses and affection that makes it seem like he's been away from her for years.
this is how he loves and this is how she loves him back -- even though he does not realise it entirely, and always wonders why she would.
so it's not really too far-fetched that he asks: "why do you love me?"
she doesn't see it coming, and for a moment he's greeted by contemplative silence. they lie in the snow together and it's cold but he feels the sun itself blooming on his cheek where she touches it.
"because you're kind, and funny in a way that's not mean, and you have such a big heart, and i don't know how i could deserve a place in it but i do. and -- do i really have to pull out a list? it's going to take days to tell it all."
something twists in his chest when he presses his smile against her own.
he wonders if she knows that his heart is empty despite its size, and that it has been for a while, and he's afraid that she will die in its vast bareness.
instead what she's done is make a garden out of a desert, spitting seeds and allowing life to thrive and making him believe he's worthy of letting her in.
so he kisses her and kisses her until he's out of breath and he laughs and pulls her inside until oxygen becomes a distant memory.
—
"i feel cold."
i know. i'm sorry. he sounds regretful, too, and when he reaches out for her it feels so real that she whimpers from the sensation. there's only so much compartmentalisation that one can do before everything bursts out and all that's left is this pathetic shell of a woman who once loved -- who still loves -- what had been the brightest star in the universe.
"i wish you were here." it sounds more like a plea and her eyes sting from tears that are shamelessly shed into a pillow. when she looks again, he's still there -- the image of him is persistent, as he had been -- and at this point she doesn't know if it would hurt more to lose this.
me too, petal.
—
it takes years for them to catch on.
by now rin is a lecturer and they figure out that he is not simply a snack, something for lilith to get drunk off of. his pack has long accepted it; it just seems as if the vampires think that he's just a pet, all until she decides that she wants to marry him. which is great, he thinks, or would have been, if her people didn't threaten to kill him if they decide to go through with it.
here he is angry, because lilith starts pushing him away. days are spent wishing they could meet again or that he could see her outside of a skype call.
"i wish you were here," he grumbles one day, phone pressed against his ear as he lies awake and thinks of nothing but the agony of emptiness. he turns to his side and realises that she isn't in his arms, and it unsettles him greatly, makes him think that everything is wrong with the world and nothing can be set right if she isn't by his side. which, he thinks, must be a right assumption to make, because in the past few weeks he's watched more tragic romances and read more romantic novels than he has ever had in his entire life. certainly, something is terribly, terribly wrong with him.
"me too, dummy." she sighs on the other end and he wishes he can see the little crinkles that would form on her brow, and kiss them away. "but what would you have me do?"
the question makes even him frown. "don't follow their rules, i don't know. i thought you never went along with them, anyway."
"your life is on the line, tharin. i'm not going to risk that."
"yeah, and i'm not going to risk you, either!" he is as persistent as when they first met, and although he rarely ever raises his tone at her, he finds that he is more skittish and on-edge when he is away from her than, say, when a full moon is about to occur, which is saying a lot. there is an aching silence before he continues: "i'm cold."
"turn into a wolf."
"but i want to hold you."
another sigh. "rin..."
"i like it better when you say my real name."
"...tharin."
he laughs a little and closes his eyes. "say it again."
she manages to laugh too, and the sound makes his heart ache. "tharin." the ache becomes a cruel twisting, as if someone's made a dish cloth out of this beating organ and wrung out everything it has left to give. his throat closes up and he is suddenly overwhelmed by emotions he has never been able to control. he must have let out a small whimper, because suddenly she sounds alarmed and asks: "what's wrong?"
"nothing. everything." there's moisture on his cheeks and he desperately wipes them away. "i love you. and i want to see you. and i miss you, lil. i miss you."
she says nothing and he imagines her arms around him.
and suddenly he is bolting out his door and he doesn't care about rules, because they do not apply to him. he is calm when he gets into his car and he drives peaceably; public transportation, he assumes, does not run at two in the morning. when he is close enough he parks right at her driveway -- a big fuck you to the bloodsuckers who keep him away with their stupid laws.
she answers the door as soon as he reaches it, his lips a hard line, tears having dried on his cheeks that he hasn't bothered to wipe away. "tharin, you aren't supposed to --,"
he shuts her up with a million kiss and tells her repeatedly and incessantly between them that he just doesn't care. he touches her everywhere and locks the door behind them and he smothers her with his mouth on her skin. rin doesn't understand why he should be deprived of this and he absolutely hates it because he absolutely loves her.
"i love you, and they aren't going to keep me away. i promised, didn't i?"
he raises his pinky finger and gives a tired smile when she hooks her own with his.
—
"you promised," she screams into nothingness. her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt and she's so, so afraid to tear it apart. it smells so much like him that her eyes sting again with tears, and it feels like he's reached into her heart and promptly sank his claws into it, still alive and beating and bleeding.
he appears, of course, and his hand on her shoulder feels too real, too real. i'm sorry. i know i did. lilith, i am so sorry --
"THAT'S NOT GOING TO BRING YOU BACK!" the truth of her own outburst makes her dissolve into an incoherent mess of tears and utterances of his name. "rin, rin, i want you back, i miss you, god --," she chokes, and it is hard to pray when her soul is damned, but she doesn't know what else to do. "god, please, rin, come back to me."
petal...
"YOU'RE IN MY HEAD. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she whimpers, curls in on him, on his scent. she wonders if the cloth can sink into her chest, if she can absorb it, and him, and somehow spit him back out, alive and well.
"please," she begs at the shadows moving in the dark. lilith shakes with the tremors of overwhelming sadness and she doesn't know if she really does want him out of her head, or if she wants to immortalise him within it.
—
it happens too quickly, as all tragedies do, and misery comes in the form of silver bullets and sharp grins on his way home from work. the ring that had been on his finger -- a symbol of a bond eternal -- falls off and into a puddle of his own blood.
he fights because he has to.
he fights because they say, we're coming for her next. he fights because they say, we know where she is and we know she is alone and we are plenty in number and we will end her after we finish you.
rin barely gets away alive. he is bleeding and half-crawling to the door. there is a bullet in his lung and he doesn't know how to breathe but his teeth grit together when he coughs and claws at her door. of course, she makes quick work of the hunters that follow his trail. there are few of them, and he blinks, delirious from pain, and doesn't remember being dragged inside the house.
it is terribly quiet now.
he is reminded of when he first stepped foot in her abode, all bright grin and expectant gaze. now he can't even see and breathing is something he's starting to give up on.
he thinks of lilith and cries. his mouth tastes like blood and more apologies than he can say.
"i'm cold."
"stay still." her hands are warm against his chest, across his forehead. "i can -- i can get it out."
he cannot see what she sees. he cannot see his own ankle mangled by a silver bear trap, cannot see the amount of blood slipping from between his fingers and her own, settled above them. doesn't see the multiple cuts on his face, the stab wound in his arm, a hole at his side where an arrow had pierced and that he'd taken out.
he sees nothingness one second and suddenly he's in her arms, and light manages to filter through again. rin keeps his gaze on her, wants to kiss the frown away, wants to turn the line of her mouth into an upward curve.
"i'm sorry," he mutters, and he doesn't know how long he will be able to see her before he no longer can. "i'm sorry. i promised --," he chokes on blood, lets it trickle down his chin. "i didn't want you to...see me...die."
"don't be silly," she snaps, already tearing at his shirt and assessing the damage. he doesn't have to look down; all he sees is the flash of panic and fear in her eyes to know that it's probably as horrible as it feels, this burning in his lungs, the blood in his throat. "you'll get through this, rin. i just -- there's a bullet there, and i need to --,"
he realises that he's crying because he's afraid, not of death, but of leaving her permanently.
"hey, lilith? i love you." she looks at him and he gives a smile. no, he never wanted her to see him die. rin knows his worth to her, knows that she might just love him as much as he does her, and watching the people you love die is the worst kind of torment that can last permanently. if given the choice, he would have wanted to die alone. but he smiles because he wants her to know that it'll be okay. that she will be, although part of him remains selfish and doesn't want her happy without him.
she looks like she's about to cry and he closes his eyes to it, lets himself sink into her hold, even though he no longer feels the warmth she used to give.
"tell me a story?"
she rests his forehead against his and his smile dims. "okay."
—
she wakes up and she smells him and, for a moment, the world gives her hope.
then, she opens her eyes, and the earth is pulled from under her and she is falling into a hell she cannot begin to describe.
lilith still feels the chill that had come from his body, still remembers how her throat ached when she screamed and cried and bit him desparately as if she could tear him from the clutches of death. she remembers agony thrumming through her veins and remembers kissing him like he would kiss back. she remembers every morning after -- or whenever she decided to wake up nowadays -- void of the usual 'i love you's or 'you're beautiful's or simple kisses to her forehead he probably never thought she noticed.
she manages to sit, all unruly tresses and withering skin. at her bedside table is a photo of him and she tries to remember a time when her heart did not ache at the sight of his smile. ( she hates how she remembers how much he likes deciphering words, or the lack of them. )
she cannot tear her eyes away, still, after so long, and through so much.
The last time she’d seen the male was admittedly, a while ago. Not that she was complaining. No, she liked her peace and quiet. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t grown accustomed to his presence. It became a normality. However, when the familiar voice came knocking on her door, the female sighs. Sometimes he required more attention and energy then she liked to spare. Moving from her place on the couch, the female approaches the door, opening it with a raising of eyebrows.
“How many times do I need to tell you not to call me miss. Makes me sound old.”
Leaving the door wide open at his leisure, she trails back to her previous position, settling into the cushions.
"yeah, yeah, whatever you say," he replied off-handedly, waving a hand in the air as if to make her complaints dissipate entirely. he let himself in all too happily, kicking the door shut behind him as he followed her with an extra spring in his step. of course he would use happiness as an excuse to hide the fact that he was still mourning the money he'd spent but -- no matter. he comfortably took his place beside her, bag being placed on the ground and easing a kind of weight off his shoulders that would have been unbearably heavy for some, while it was only a minor inconvenience for him to pretend that it was an inconvenience. "read to me again! and please don't tell me you skipped ahead -- i want to know what happens after that last bit where she calls him up to meet them and stuff."
Quinn is guilty of many things. Identity theft, murder, unlawful surveillance— and that’s just within the last century..aside from the murder of course. There will always be one wrong doing that will stick out more than the others; it was the one and only time he’s turned a human into a vampire. Lilith. Quinn turned her, taught her the way then abandoned her. It was cruel, he was still a young vampire, a fledgling merely testing how strong he was. It scared him, having to take care of someone. It was too close to home, too close to feeling like a big brother. So he bailed. Figured he’d never see her again anyway. As bad as it sounds, he figured she’d die once on her own.
Yet here we are now. Nose slightly stuck up in the air, making sure the scent he smelled was correct. It’s a scent he’ll never forget. It didn’t take long to follow that scent and when it was finally at it’s strongest he saw her walking out of the mall and right into a taxi. Seeing her for the first time in centuries brought him back to the night she woke up, how beautiful her skin was. How heart broken he felt when he abandoned her.
Even with guilt striking him at the core he easily steals some stranger’s car, he was just getting in it. He seemed important, suit looking freshly pressed, hair neatly in place and shoes squeaky clean. A gentle hand placed on the stranger’s arm, emotionless eyes staring straight into his. “ This is my car and those are my keys, ” voice monotonous, lifeless, features never giving. After a silent couple of seconds the stranger let out a bashful laugh and apologized, handing the keys right over. Reality warping is one hell of an ability.
Quinn followed behind Lilith’s taxi, keeping a big enough distance for his scent to be too faint to notice. He’s not quite sure why he’s following her or what he’s going to do once they’re face to face again. I’m sure she’s gonna beat the hell out of me. I’ll let her do that much. I deserve it after all.
The club. A place where Aiden go whenever she felt the need of a breathing space, or just a break from her everyday routine which became very repetitive. Everything was stressful -- school and her work. If only she could just quit everything, but no. Of course she can’t do that. The only thing that could take her away from all those stress was alcohol, the thing that make her forget about her miseries in life -- sadly for a short time.
Now here she was trying to forget that she was living her life in misery, she already had a few cocktails and she wouldn't lie to herself -- she was already tipsy, she couldn’t even think straight right now. All she could do was to watch the crowd from where she was sitting -- the bar stool. The song suddenly changed into something upbeat and the crowd seemed to get hyped, it gave her the urge to dance but she did not want to dance alone, she wasn’t really used to dancing alone in a crowd or in a club in general so she chose not to -- she chose to stay still to where she was sitting, her feet tapping against the floor with every beat of the song as she took a sip from her cocktail.
There was something odd, she felt a pair of eyes watching her.... But the question is, who was it?
