Sure, Caine Soren had things. He had many things, actually. He had persuasion on his side, a true propagandist. He had convinced the students of Coates to put the other freak's hands into cement to prevent them from using their powers.
Caine had the looks, the tan, and the hair, everything modern and cool to make him an object of popularity. He took full advantage of this thing. It was his means of using his persuasion and when that didn't work out – he used another thing. His telekinetic power could be even more… influential.
But there was one thing Caine did not have. And this was what he wanted the most.
His general, his warrior: Drake Merwin.
The boy with the Whip-Hand and grey eyes filled with hatred and rage. Yes, Caine wanted that. Especially now he was lying in the old headmaster's bed, tossing and turning. He hadn't slept in days; just another perk of being a slave to the Darkness.
He needed Drake's warmth, assurance and maybe a little bit of psycho to make feel better. He would get sleep. He would dream and wake up the next morning feeling refreshed.
"Boss?" The unmistakable voice of his insane general made Caine sit up. Drake stood at the door, only noticeable as a shadow. His whip curling around himself made it obvious as him. Caine gulped and wanted desperately to see Drake's eyes. Eyes that portrayed malnourishment and neglect. It was Caine's theory that Drake wasn't loved and that's why he fed on other people's suffering, it was because he hadn't learned to properly respect human beings and care for them. Neither had Caine, but he was better at limiting his killings than Drake was. And Caine's theory refused him to blame Whip Hand for this.
I love you, Drake, Caine thought to himself. I do.
"Yes, Drake?" Caine answered sleepily. His exhaustion was present. His will to sleep was absent.
"I heard you tossing and turning, you okay?" Drake asked as his whip seemed to slither around Caine's neck carefully, almost lovingly. It was as though Drake was reassuring Caine.
"Yeah, it's just… the gaiaphage. It won't let me sleep." Caine breathed as the whip continued to wander down his bare chest and wrapped itself around his stomach.
"You too?" Caine heard a sob in Drake's voice. He didn't realise the warrior was upset about it too. The Darkness gave Drake everything, it seemed. Apart from contentedness. Caine heard more sobs and snivels in the gloomy night.
"Drake are you… are you crying?" Caine questioned. It was refreshing to know Drake felt actual emotions rather than just blood thirst. It proved that he truly was human.
"No." He protested weakly, clearly crying. A few seconds later he added: "Do you remember what it's like to dream, Caine? Not like envision anything, nothing from… him, but properly dream. Like the stuff from your imagination coming to life when you're asleep."
Caine contemplated it for a second. Did he remember what dreaming felt like? The waking up from nightmares and the relief that it was over as well as the contrast of emerging from a good dream that made you curse because it ended.
He didn't. He couldn't remember what his last proper dream was.
Caine tugged at his general's whip which made him move closer and closer until Drake was sitting on Caine's bed next to him.
"No, Drake I don't. But dreams hold you back. They prevent you from concentrating on reality." Caine answered, tracing his fingers along Drake's bare and muscly back and down his spine. The warrior was bent over the side of the bed, stretching every small detail of his strong back. Caine loved it. "I can daydream though; he can't take that from us."
Drake chuckled and sniffed. "What does the mighty leader Caine Soren daydream about?"
General Drake Merwin, Caine thought. "Nothing you should concern yourself with." Caine looked down at the whip that was still firmly locked around his stomach. He ran his fingers along that too, lovingly so.
Drake slowly straightened his posture and turned to face where Caine was. He stared into the darkness at the direction of his master – his true master. Not some voice in a cave that tried to use him, make a monster out of him. Drake wasn't a monster. He just needed someone to remind him not to act like one. Too much.
"Can I stay in here with you tonight?" Drake whispered. Caine was startled for a second and when he realised that Drake seriously just asked that question, he gulped back some worry. If Drake got into this bed, Caine would hug him and hold him and never let go. How could he possibly be expected to let go? Once something was in Caine's possession, it was his forever. But Drake had never actually expressed desire to be Caine's.
Although, he did ask to stay with him. So Caine took that as consent to nurture the neglected and lost boy in front of him.
Caine smiled. "You're always welcome here, Drake."
The thing he wanted most was in his reach. All he had to do was grasp it.