wit day nine: strings
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***
There’s a steady click, click, click of heels against the marble floors. Tentative eyes flicker up to watch the figure that strides past, cloak billowing out around him, golden eyes glinting with a foreign intelligence that chills the lesser beings in the room to the bone. Kuroo Tetsurou looks at one of them, smirking cruelly, taking a sort of twisted pride in the fact that his eyes alone makes the servant shrink back in fear and awe.
He is the puppetmaster of this estate. He’s been in command for hundreds of years, and nothing can displace him.
Kuroo continues walking, face falling back into a contemplative frown as he ascends the swirling staircase. There has been a new face around lately-- a human, one that would no doubt soon be used for blood, not just to scrub the floors. His skin shines dark from hours under the sun, and something about him, be it the wild hair or the keen eyes, puts Kuroo off. So far he has shown no signs of resistance, but only time would tell what was to become of that.
He sees the human, Bokuto, at the end of the hall. He’s staring at something Kuroo can’t see and the vampire tilts his head, mildly curious. He clears his throat but the other figure doesn’t move. Kuroo strides forward, poking Bokuto’s shoulder with one long, black nail. He remains motionless.
Now equal parts interested in this new development and annoyed that he was being ignored, Kuroo grips his shoulder and whirls him around. Almost immediately Bokuto collapses forward with a sickly groan and Kuroo’s forced to catch him, supporting the human’s weight effortlessly, his eyes growing wide. Bokuto’s face is drained of all color and his eyelids are drooping, marks of all sorts littering his throat and neck. Kuroo’s lip curls a little as he notices some of the bruises scattered along his skin, but settles into a sort of displeased resignation as he sees two neat puncture wounds.
Yes, he’s familiar with those marks; indicative of a vampire bite.
Kuroo is furious, but now is not the time. From what he has seen Bokuto is at least physically capable, which could lead to him being a halfway decent subordinate to Kuroo himself. Bokuto is still breathing, though he wouldn’t be for long. Kuroo wraps his thin fingers around Bokuto’s neck and pulls him along, commandeering but still oddly careful.
***
When Bokuto awakes, groggy and pained, the first thing he notices is that his heart isn’t beating.
That had been something he had always sought for as a child, something he would search for when he longed for a steady reassurance of his life. He gives a strangled cry, a hand flying to his neck, clouded eyes flicking around nervously.
The figure shrouded in black lifts its head. Bokuto immediately cringes away upon seeing the powerful monster before him, all sharp lines and dark tones. His stomach twists as his fingers scrape along his skin in search of a pulse.
“It’s about time.” Kuroo stands and walks over, fingers sliding up the bed Bokuto was laid upon, his eyes seeming to glow in the dim light. “How are you feeling?”
Unable to focus on anything other than his lack of pulse, Bokuto shakes his head wildly. “I don’t-- I don’t feel--”
“No, you don’t.” Kuroo smiles thinly and Bokuto shudders. “What do you remember?”
A couple of rapid blinks. “R-remember…?”
“Before you woke up,” supplies the other, putting a hand under Bokuto’s chin and guiding his head up. Their eyes lock and Bokuto goes stiff, goosebumps running all over his skin.
“I don’t…” He swallows, feeling Kuroo’s eyes still on him, imposing and a little impatient. “I was…”
“You were turned,” says Kuroo, unimpressed with his lack of memory. He drops his hands and begins to walk, slow and deliberate. “I’m guessing you had sex with one of my kin and allowed them to turn you.”
Bokuto flinches. “N-no, that can’t be it.”
Kuroo smiles. “It is.”
Silence stretches between them, deafeningly fragile. “What am I going to do?” whispers Bokuto, clenching the sheets in fear. Kuroo looks up, into a mirror placed tauntingly on the opposite wall.
“You are going to tell me who did this to you,” says Kuroo, voice soft and deadly, “and then you are going to kill them.”
***
Slowly, Bokuto begins to remember. It was a vampire with as much striking beauty as Kuroo, with pale eyes and hair darker than the shadows that now swim on the edges of Bokuto’s vision. He remembers the infatuation that had overtaken him, he remembers the feeling of this vampire’s body moving along his own, around him, he remembers the feeling of fangs that had pierced his skin and how he had felt his own pulse flutter weakly.
He stares at the vampire, Akaashi, who looks back at him with emotionless eyes. Kuroo watches him too, as he picks up the thin silver blade, as Bokuto twists it in his hands. The grandfather clock ticks ominously as he drops it, stepping back, shaking his head. “No, no, I can’t…”
Kuroo sighs, disappointed. Bokuto cringes at his disapproval, hadn’t even realized that he was craving it. “Come,” says Kuroo, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bokuto relaxes just a little.
***
Akaashi is decapitated outside the manor. His blood paints Bokuto’s skin, stains his hair. Far above him the stars twinkle tauntingly and Kuroo puts a hand to his shoulder once again, controlling him without words or actions, and Bokuto doesn’t even care. He leans into the older vampire and takes a shaky breath, feeling fingers card through his hair.
“You will live forever,” whispers Kuroo, voice rich with promise, Bokuto unable to see the slow smile stretching over his lips. “Do you want that?”
“I want that,” answers Bokuto, staring at his bloodied hands. What else is there? Surely he wouldn’t have survived the process if it weren’t for Kuroo.
Kuroo kisses his temple and stands, Bokuto following without a thought, pulled along by Kuroo’s strings. “I know.”
***
[ao3]
