On Tour [Breno]

[Blaize]

Blaize stared at the closed door for a few long minutes. Breno had stated how much this meant to him, and Blaize had to wonder how long he would hold to that. In the end he reasoned that it was only his guilt speaking, and that losing a few pints of blood might be nothing compared to… well, whatever it was that Breno was after. Eventually, Blaize had to smile, revelling in the compliment. After he had showered and dressed, he went out—not to do anything in particular, but merely to explore. If he was going to travel with the company, he may as well make the most of it.

_______________________

The tour continued, as normal. The extra space was provided for Breno; what Breno did with his time was up to him, though Blaize did spend a lot of his time with the man. The one who understood what he was, when he needed; someone he trusted, and felt he could be open with. As much as Blaize had an ego, as much as he thought he was the best he could be and needed no advisement, he listened if Breno ever gave him any advice regarding his dance.

The tour ended in France; there was a party on the last night, a celebration as the dancers went their separate ways. They took the VIP room in one of the more well established clubs. They were dazzling, a group of jubilant, glittering, model-like specimens dancing and drinking and having a good time. Blaize had calmed over the course of the tour; with Breno’s blood calming his nerves, he was able to relax and enjoy himself. They were both at the club when it happened.

It was completely unrelated to their party. The terrorists screamed in French and Blaize didn’t understand, but he knew it wasn’t good. There were three of them, each wearing explosive vests. The music shut down; bullets screamed through the air and chaos erupted around them. It wasn’t a hostage situation. It wasn’t a siege. It was just slaughter, the gunmen shooting down anyone and everyone.

All Blaize could think was that he was not in Harper Rock. If he was killed here, he was dead for good. He dropped to a crouch, cursing under his breath as his bright eyes swung from face to face, searching for Breno.

[Breno (DELETED 9529)]

Breno kept his word and returned to the theater two days later, a small suitcase in hand holding the bare necessities. He watched the show again, his attention on Blaize once again as the dancer moved gracefully on the stage, and thought briefly about his decisions leading up to this point. He told his assistant and the students that he was going to travel, said his good byes, and now here he was returning to the world he had to abruptly leave. He may not be able to return to the stage, but this was going to be good enough. Hopefully.

_______________________

The tour went better than he thought it would. It took a bit of time for the rest of the group to accept his presence, but eventually some of the dancers, and even Blaize himself at times, listened to some of the pointers he made after performances. He supposed that it was because of his years of teaching, but the group didn't seem to mind too much as long as he didn't do it too often.

Breno was sitting on the far side of the room with his cane against the wall on the last night of the tour, watching the rest of the party with an amused smile. It was bittersweet that the tour was over, but he hoped that another opportunity like this would occur again.

His train of thought was interrupted by the yelling and gunfire. He vaguely caught the shouts, but he was too busy ducking down to listen close enough to fully understand. Bullets flew overhead and screams of terror and pain filled the air as the three men filled the air with lead. Where was Blaize? Blaize had told him about some of the rules and conditions about being a vampire, one of which regarding death outside of Harper Rock. Breno crawled towards one of the tables, seeking cover and looking around frantically for Blaize, when a searing pain shot through his good leg. He cried out in pain and rolled onto his back, clutching is bleeding leg tightly as he looked up to see one of the terrorists walking towards him, a gun trained on his chest.

[Blaize]

Blaize knew that he should get the **** out of dodge, but he was a reckless individual, his ego extended to his confidence. A single shot to the heart wouldn’t kill him, nor would a shot to the head. If these terrorists wanted to see him dead, they’d have to do more than that. They’d have to drain him of his blood, they’d have to sever limbs, cut off his head. For all Blaize’s ego, most would accuse him of being a selfish individual. They would be wrong.

If he was selfish, he wouldn’t have run toward the gunshots rather than away. He wouldn’t have flung himself into the screaming, desperate crowd to shove his way through to where he’d last seen Breno; and yet he didn’t get there. Instead, he stumbled across Breno on the ground, one of the gunmen with a weapon to Breno’s chest.

Blaize ought to have slowed down, and yet he didn’t. Instead, he picked up the pace. His vampiric speed was no match for the gunman’s dexterity. Blaize caught the enemy around the midriff – an action that wasn’t well thought-out. The surprise caused the gunman to squeeze the trigger. The gun in his grasp fired, a loud boom in Blaize’s ear. They landed in a tangle of limbs, and the dancer pinned the enemy, fingers curled into fists as knuckles connected once, twice, three times with the guy’s face.

The body went limp, the gunman having lost his consciousness. Only then did Blaize turn, ready to grab Breno by the arm and help the human out of the club and back to non-chaotic safety.

[Breno (DELETED 9529)]

Breno stared at the gun in terror, his body frozen. Every part of him was screaming to run, get away, find somewhere safe, but not even the throbbing pain of the bullet wound in his leg was enough to tear his gaze away from the gun.

He didn't even register Blaize tackling the terrorist with inhuman speed, but he did see the sparks of the gun go off as though in slow motion. Blaize's surprise attack moved the gun away from its initial target, but the bullet flew and hit him in the stomach, a red spot rapidly growing through Breno's white button up shirt. Breno cried out in pain when the bullet hit, his whole midriff now on fire, and barely registered Blaize gripping his arm. He wrapped an arm around his stomach, trying to staunch the blood, and glanced up at Blaize. "My legs... I can't-" A flash of pain engulfed his body interrupted his words and he doubled over, gasping. There was no way he was going to get out of this, and judging by the amount of blood now steadily escaping his body, it was not likely he was going to make it out alive.

[Blaize]

The arm was unmoving, and it took a good two seconds before Blaize realised why. Breno’s halting negation, his pain, slammed Blaize like an iron fist. Wide, meadow-green eyes swept to the crimson stain that only grew as it crawled through the fibres of Breno’s shirt. Blaize had tried, but was too late. Or was it his trying that had caused the gunfire? Was this his fault? He pushed the guilt aside, that ever-vicious guilt, and instead focused on Breno. Someone shot a gun nearby and Blaize flinched, ducking; but he didn’t feel the nick of pain, the burn of a bullet through flesh.

”I’m going to lift you,” Blaize said. He was strong enough to half carry, half drag Breno to somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. Or quieter. He barely gave the other man leeway to say no; he hadn’t even finished his sentence before he had a hold of Breno’s arm, dragging the darker haired male to his feet as Blaize pulled said arm over his shoulders. Opposite hand slapped against Breno’s torso as he lifted, held Breno steady and, still trying to duck as much as possible out of the gunfire, made a beeline for the coat room.

The counter had been abandoned and the room behind it was closet-like, but big enough. There were racks of expensive jackets and fur coats, men’s and women’s, all with delicate tags dangling from them, somewhere. As soon as they were inside the room, Blaize shoved one of the wheeled racks toward the door, hiding their presence within. He pushed through a wall of fabric and finally crouched to the ground with Breno; the light was dim overhead, but they were hidden from view. The police would surely arrive before any gunman could find them there.

”Just… wait. Hold on, Bren—the ambulances will get here, you’ll be fine,” Blaize said, grabbing a random jacket from a hanger and tearing at Breno’s shirt only so that he might be able to find the wound beneath, and press the thick fabric against it, keeping pressure. Vaguely, Blaize wondered how much blood Breno could afford to lose. Blaize had been using him as his own personal blood bag—how had that weakened him? Blaize grunted, searching Breno’s face. Hoping that he might be able to make it out of this alive.

[Breno (DELETED 9529)]

Breno barely had time to react before Blaize picked him up off the floor. A cry of pain escaped him as his body was forced to move, the already agitated wounds flaring up even more. In a haze he allowed himself to be dragged off to a closet with his leg with the old injury being the more useful one in an ironic twist of fate. The moment Blaize loosened his hold, Breno sank to the floor of the closet and leaned against the back wall. He was light-headed, which had become somewhat a usual thing lately, but this time was far from usual.

"I'll try," Breno answered Blaize with a hiss of pain as the wound was compressed with a very expensive looking jacket, "but this isn't looking good." The gunfire and screams were more muffled now. Breno prayed that non of the gunmen saw their retreat. There was no way out if they were found before the police arrived. "Why didn't you leave when they showed up? I thought you aren't immortal out out Canada."

[Blaize]

The look Blaize shot at Breno was akin to the blade of a knife, newly forged and hot with the fire of the kiln. It was a strange question, an unneeded question. With a near-constant supply of blood and regular consumption, Blaize had been better able to keep his temper, and to keep his wits about him. It had proved crucial to his dance. What had it amounted to? At least Blaize couldn’t feel guilty about this situation; he might have been the reason Breno was there, but he had not called the terrorists to the doorstep.

But, he was the reason Breno was there.

”I know I appear to be cold and selfish but you really could learn to look below the surface,” he snapped. Though were his actions truly selfless? Or was it just a matter of pride? He was the reason that Breno was here and so he would not leave Breno behind. To do so would make him a coward. He would not be seen as a coward; he would not have been able to stand himself, had he run away.

He started to wonder what would happen if the ambulances were too late; what if there was a siege? What if the gunmen took hostages and they were holed up here for days and nights? A glance up assured Blaize there were no windows in the coat room. He’d be safe from the sun – so long as he wasn’t found and dragged outside while dead to the world, asleep.

”And if they don’t come in time? If you… do you want to die, or would you prefer to take my blood for once…?” he asked, blunt and to the point. Blaize was not known to beat around the bush.

[Breno (DELETED 9529)]

Breno smiled at Blaize a bit sheepishly. If looks could kill, he would be dead twice over. "You're right, I'm sorry. Guess I'm just surprised, it's been a while since someone cared about me over their own safety." Breno shifted to try and get more comfortable and grunted at the pain that flashed through him as a result. Breno never went into a lot of detail with Blaize about his past, but the vampire was aware of the accident that broke his leg and the devastation it had caused. Breno had isolated himself for a long time after the accident, until the only person left in his life was his therapist. He severed all ties with anyone in the ballet industry, and not even his ballet classes could repair that.

That was why he went to Blaize in the first place. Blaize not only had the connections with the ballet world again, but he had the passion and drive for the dance that he hadn't seen in a long time. It rekindled the fire within Breno, and like a moth he went to chase the source of that flame. Breno had explained a bit of this to Blaize and would frequently make sure that Blaize was aware of the gratitude he felt. Blaize had given him what seemed like a second chance.

And now, with what seemed to be the end of his life, Blaize was giving him another chance. Breno stared at Blaize in silent shock as he tried to wrap his head around what Blaize was proposing. He knew what it meant by taking Blaize's blood, it was one of the first few questions he had asked shortly after they first met. Breno shut his eyes as he was hit with a wave of dizziness. He was losing a lot of blood, if help didn't arrive soon then he would last much longer. "I don't want to die, not anymore. But if you turn me, then-" he hissed with pain as he felt more blood seep out of the wound in his stomach, "..then you won't have anyone to feed from anymore."

[Blaize]

Blaize laughed though there was no mirth in it. He saw the surprise clearly written upon Breno’s features and he guessed it was because it was an outcome the other male hadn’t considered; it wasn’t as if one planned to be attacked and shot in the middle of a busy nightclub.

”If you die, then I’m going to have no one to feed from. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I can figure that out later,” he said. He could have said that he’d done just fine before Breno and that he’d do just fine after Breno, but it would be a lie. The truth was, he struggled; but the answer was sitting right in front of him. All he had to do was find someone else that was willing, and it would be okay. ”And you know…” he said as he tried to help Breno get more comfortable, though he laid a hand on the other man’s chest as if to tell him to stay the **** still, because moving wasn’t doing him any favours. ”… I didn’t expect you to be able to feed me forever. There’s got to be major health issues giving away so much blood. You’d become fatally anaemic, or something, and I’d have to stop anyway,” Blaize said. He didn’t normally talk so much, but he’d gotten to know Breno. They’d talked about a lot – not everything, mind you, but a lot. It was easy to talk to someone of a like mind.

And those words… they struck Blaize as strange. Breno didn’t want to die any more. So he’d considered it, once. He’d wondered what death might be like, and whether it would be a release from the mortal coil – a relief. Now he understood there was more to live for. Blaize’s lips pressed together as he arched his brow, inquisitive. There was more shouting outside, but no doors had been kicked down. No one was coming to save them, and the scent of Breno’s blood was now all that Blaize could focus on. He was losing too much. He wasn’t going to make it.

”Is that a yes, then?” he said, making himself comfortable. He didn’t have anything sharp with which to break his own skin, but he slipped an arm behind Breno’s shoulders and offered a bare wrist anyway. ”If it is, you’re going to have to chew. Sorry, but I’ve got nothing to cut it with…”

[Breno (DELETED 9529)]

Breno rested his head back as he listened to Blaize, a feeling of exhaustion overwhelming him. His eyes felt heavy, and suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep. Blaize was right though, their arrangement couldn't have lasted forever. It was something that had crossed his mind more than once, but he didn't dare entertain the thought for long. It was something he didn't want to deal with until it was absolutely necessary, but that moment came a lot sooner than he anticipated.

Blaize moved his arm behind him for support, and Breno looked down at the offered wrist with half-closed eyes. He was rapidly fading, and the only thing that could save him now was the pale arm in front of him. Yet he still hesitated. He heard the voice of his therapist again, gently but firmly telling him that he was making poor choices again. That he should stop and think before jumping into whatever half-baked plan he had going through his mind. But there was no backing out of this one, and despite the fogginess taking over his mind, he realized that there wasn't really any other way he would want it to go. What he told Blaize was true, he didn't want to die anymore.

With agonizing slowness, Breno clutched at Blaize's arm and brought the wrist to his mouth. With a pained smirk he glanced at Blaize and said in a loud whisper, "How the tides have turned, huh?" Without any further hesitation, he bit down on the wrist. It was a strange feeling at first, biting down on another person's arm, but it didn't take much time before he broke the skin. Almost immediately cold blood filled his mouth and he nearly gagged on the taste, but he used the last of his strength to keep drinking. He could feel his energy fading even faster now, and dark spots began to cloud his vision. He dropped Blaize's arm and his head fell back as he lost the strength to hold it up. His last thought before losing consciousness was he hoped he had enough of Blaize's blood in him.