Re: Before Butterfly's Wings [Invite]
Posted: 30 Dec 2017, 14:18
The bathrooms were a saving grace. Who’d have ever thought that bathrooms would be a place of romance, of love? But they were in the middle of the complex, they were windowless; when Freddie and Hannah disappeared into them together, no one followed them. No one cared. If they did care, if they did follow it would have taken only two seconds for them to realise what was going on. They were left undisturbed, Freddie’s spirits lifting.
In those few days, even the stalker faded. All the vampiric traits were gone. Warmth returned fully to Freddie’s flesh; his canines remained blunt and human. He was beginning to get used to the dullness of his senses and when he slept, it was because he was exhausted and not because the sun commanded him to. When he woke, sleep clung to his eyes and he was bleary; he drank caffeine and it worked to wake him up. When he ate food it wasn’t just going through the motions like he had as a human; he felt nourished by it. He needed water when he got dehydrated. It had to have worked.
Had to have.
It was during one of their stints in the bathroom that the bubble burst. The door was locked, and Freddie had Hannah up on the sink. He wasn’t naked, not entirely, but his pants may have been down around his knees. With his arm around Hannah’s torso and his lips brushing fiery kisses across her skin, he was fully in the moment.
And then he was gone. A solid presence, and then he was gone. Flickered, snuffed out like a candle in too much wind. He left nothing behind but his scent.
When Freddie came to, it was to the sound of a loud, blaring horn and the unbearable brightness of headlights. He stumbled, naked, to the side of the road, arms up in defence.
…what…the actual ****?
And it was cold, too. So, ******* cold. His breath came out in a rush, forming a smokey cloud in the air that dispersed. Freddie laughed. He laughed, because he was breathing. He was breathing because he needed to, and his breath was hot. It condensed in the cold Canadian night. He was alive. Even the biting cold of ice beneath the soles of his feet was a pleasure to him, even if he knew if he stayed too long out in the cold he’d get frostbite.
Eventually he convinced someone he’d been let loose on a bachelor night prank; he was given a pair of pants and a jacket, even a pair of shoes that were too tight. He was too tall, his feet too big to fit into the stranger’s gifts. But it would do.
As he stumbled through the cold night back to where he knew the lab to be, he wondered how he’d got there, in the middle of the street. The last thing he remembered was… Hannah. He’d been so close to climax, too. And then he’d just… ended up in the middle of the street. And yet that memory felt hazy and distant, like it wasn’t a minute ago, or five, or ten. Half the night, maybe. Maybe two nights. How long had he been gone?
Where had he been?
The joy he’d felt at fogged air and cold feet dispersed. What the **** was going on?
The lab doors were locked when he got there; he crashed against the glass, slamming his fist against it. Shouting. What he wouldn’t give for a heater, some blankets, and a really hot mug of coffee.
In those few days, even the stalker faded. All the vampiric traits were gone. Warmth returned fully to Freddie’s flesh; his canines remained blunt and human. He was beginning to get used to the dullness of his senses and when he slept, it was because he was exhausted and not because the sun commanded him to. When he woke, sleep clung to his eyes and he was bleary; he drank caffeine and it worked to wake him up. When he ate food it wasn’t just going through the motions like he had as a human; he felt nourished by it. He needed water when he got dehydrated. It had to have worked.
Had to have.
It was during one of their stints in the bathroom that the bubble burst. The door was locked, and Freddie had Hannah up on the sink. He wasn’t naked, not entirely, but his pants may have been down around his knees. With his arm around Hannah’s torso and his lips brushing fiery kisses across her skin, he was fully in the moment.
And then he was gone. A solid presence, and then he was gone. Flickered, snuffed out like a candle in too much wind. He left nothing behind but his scent.
+++
When Freddie came to, it was to the sound of a loud, blaring horn and the unbearable brightness of headlights. He stumbled, naked, to the side of the road, arms up in defence.
…what…the actual ****?
And it was cold, too. So, ******* cold. His breath came out in a rush, forming a smokey cloud in the air that dispersed. Freddie laughed. He laughed, because he was breathing. He was breathing because he needed to, and his breath was hot. It condensed in the cold Canadian night. He was alive. Even the biting cold of ice beneath the soles of his feet was a pleasure to him, even if he knew if he stayed too long out in the cold he’d get frostbite.
Eventually he convinced someone he’d been let loose on a bachelor night prank; he was given a pair of pants and a jacket, even a pair of shoes that were too tight. He was too tall, his feet too big to fit into the stranger’s gifts. But it would do.
As he stumbled through the cold night back to where he knew the lab to be, he wondered how he’d got there, in the middle of the street. The last thing he remembered was… Hannah. He’d been so close to climax, too. And then he’d just… ended up in the middle of the street. And yet that memory felt hazy and distant, like it wasn’t a minute ago, or five, or ten. Half the night, maybe. Maybe two nights. How long had he been gone?
Where had he been?
The joy he’d felt at fogged air and cold feet dispersed. What the **** was going on?
The lab doors were locked when he got there; he crashed against the glass, slamming his fist against it. Shouting. What he wouldn’t give for a heater, some blankets, and a really hot mug of coffee.