I'LL BE THERE
Scurry, scurry, rush, rush. Keep walking, faster, faster, faster. The pale man followed his victim. The human prey was completely oblivious, talking on his cell phone blatantly. The man he was behind smelled delicious, like nothing his nostrils had ever experienced. The twilight wind played with the long, blonde hair of the stalked. As the sun set, the first man walked down a dark alley and was followed by the predator. His phone closed with a snap and his eyes got wide, realizing that he had company. Words slipped out of his luscious lips, asking the follower what he wanted. The pale one's mouth then traveled towards the other's neck, and with a snap the trap sprung. Thin incisors slid through the flesh. Blood squirted out, getting everywhere. The shirt, the jacket, and the pants of both men were dyed crimson. The survivor's eyes turned a gold, and then black blurred them out as he fainted.
"And then what?" a pair of pale lips slipped out. In fact, a lot about him was pale. His beautifully shaped body was even hidden by a white buttoned down shirt. Grey pants hide his legs, most likely as carved as his chest and arms. Hiding part of his torso was the head of another man, the one with the bloodstained clothing.
"Nothing. I fell upon," his words were choked by tears slipping down his bloody face. The sorrowful anaphylaxis died down and he concluded, "Him." The hands of his companion held him close and secure. More words fell from his lips. "Edward," his voice quavered again, "What do you think is wrong with me?"
A long sigh was the only response to the question at first. Inappropriately, a smirk grew on the older one's face. "Well, a lot of things," would be the natural response, but as the smirk died, his wit calmed. "The hunger?" The question stood in the air stilly. "You know that's perfectly natural," followed, but neither seemed to be the answer by the silence that came as an answer.
Another tear fell down the bloodstained cheek, mixing with a little of the dried life-fluid, causing a crimson tinged tear to fall down his pale, stony cheek. "I mean," he sighed, his post-crying breath catching up with him, "Why did this affect me so much? We've all fed before." Jasper's distraught attitude showed in all his words, but didn't 'cause Edward to feel the same, as it often would have.
Edward searched into his mind for an answer. Trying to recover a thought that hadn't been touched in a long while was difficult. Finally, the words appeared and vocalized themselves. "Post-traumatic stress disorder," he offered. Though he wouldn't identify killing an innocent as something necessarily "traumatic", Jasper was somewhat new to this whole deal of sucking blood.
The younger man shifted in his "brother's" lap uncomfortably. He wasn't sure he bought the excuse Edward offered him, but he didn't voice it. He just sat there, for once feeling safe since he came back from his faint spell. His clothes were still the bloodstained outfit, and he supposed he should change them soon. On the other hand, it was too soon for him to leave the comforting arms. He didn't even know if his legs would let him stand, or if they'd quiver until they had him on the ground again, sobbing.
"I don't care if you're stark-raving mad or if you're simply overreacting, Jasp," his brother whispered. Holding him tighter, sensing a bit more insecurity escaping his "sibling". He wiped a newly shed tear from his cheek with the back of his statuesque hand and rested his head upon that of the boy in his arms. "Whenever you need me, I'll be there," he quoted, before they sat in silence, Jasper healing and Edward helping.