A/N: I haven't written for this fandom in a very long time, not since I had my old account (GigoLove07). Hopefully I've improved by now, eheh... Anyway, as mentioned in the synopsis, this is pretty dark. It's not gory or anything, but it has mentions of attempted suicide and character death and lots of angst. Even so, I hope you all enjoy it.
Edit: Oops, I actually meant to rate it T. I don't think it's quite bad enough for an M, so I changed the rating back.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Pokemon.
Dedication: This fic is dedicated to HarvestGirl10. I'm not sure if she's around here anymore, but we were fic buddies years ago and originally planned on cowriting this. She came up with most of the idea but said I could write it when her life got too busy (I can totally understand). I hope you approve, Tsev. (:
Bloodred Phenomenon/Bite Me
Blood red roses. The smell of blood. They accompany her everywhere she goes.
She is so, so pale, but bright colors hurt her eyes, so she wears a black dress every day. Bright colors remind her of the (oh so blinding) sun. Just the thought of it scalds her fingertips. Black lace is pretty, comforting, dark. It reminds her that she's still a girl. Somewhat.
A lot of times she feels like a child, like she doesn't understand anything anymore. Her thoughts fly around her head like birds moving south for the winter—only, not in straight lines. They're all over the place.
Most of all, the boredom eats at her. She can see perfectly clearly in her dark little room, and she has been brought everything she has asked for, but none of the hobbies she has attempted seem fun to her. She has tried crafting, knitting, painting, playing instruments, but they aren't interesting enough (and she's not any good at them, anyway). She can't raise Pokémon anymore—they remind her too much of contests. The one thing she loved most in the entire world, and now she can't do them anymore, because… she doesn't want to hurt the people she loves anymore. Not after Max—don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it. So now she sits in her dark room, sleeps, drinks, and becomes lonelier and lonelier with every day.
She is close to no one. She can't be.
Except him.
She can't get enough of him—she drinks him in every time she sees him (but not really, she couldn't) and despairs every time he leaves.
He brings her roses. They're the only colorful thing she keeps any more.
"May."
Even the sound of her name on his tongue is enticing, sharp. It brings her to her senses, reminds her of who she is, brings back memories of the wonderful world she used to be a part of…
"May…"
There he is again. She supposes she should pay attention to him instead of just contemplating him (which is all she ever does, anyway).
"Please don't get any closer." She speaks the warning, but he knows already. She's just going through the motions.
He brought her here, after all. He knows what he's doing, she thinks. She's glad he does, because she doesn't.
"I know," he echoes her thoughts. "I'm not stupid, you know."
"Okay," says May. Again and again, she is surprised at the clear, perfect tone of her voice. It never cracks from disuse, despite the fact that he only comes to see her once a week, if that.
There's silence, for a while. Why is it that he is all she thinks about, and yet she can't think of anything to say when he's actually there?
Finally, he speaks. "I leveled up Roserade again today. It's doing very well, and I think I'm almost ready for…" He tells her of his day, his week, and she listens, though not as avidly as she should. She is more concerned with the lilt of his voice, the cadence, his deep tones.
He has grown up a bit, after all, even though she can't. He's eighteen now, and she is (caught at) sixteen. It was just her luck that she would get stuck as a teenager forever. At least she is still maturing mentally. She remembers herself at sixteen, before that happened, and she remembers how annoying she was, and she would probably have killed herself by now if she had not been able to grow up in her own head.
Not that she hasn't tried, anyway. But it's impossible.
He is growing up to be a (handsome) young man, and she can't… Sometimes she is jealous. Other times, she longs—for him, for her old life, for the touch of human skin.
Don't think about skin, she tells herself. Not with him just across the room from her. Skin reminds her of blood, and it would be so easy, just to stand up and—no. Not allowed. Can't. Won't.
She realizes he has fallen silent. She mentally berates herself. "Sorry, what?" she asks.
"I broke up with my girlfriend yesterday." He says it nonchalantly, while she gapes at him. He had a girlfriend? Jealousy flares in her eyes for a bit. He didn't even say anything… oh. He did mention it, about a month or so ago. Some girl named Dawn.
"Why'd you do that?" She brushes her hair to the side, fiddles with the lace cuff of her sleeve. It's a good thing that he can't see her in the dark. Even though she can't blush anymore, she knows her unwarranted movement would give her away.
"We both decided we were in love with someone else," he shrugs. Again, it sounds matter-of-fact, arrogant, but she knows that it's just a mask he puts on to hide his true emotions. She can smell the regret on him, the wishing-it-could-have-been. She doesn't mention it, though. The last time she told him she could smell his emotions, he hadn't come back for weeks. She wonders who he loves now—probably some other, faceless girl. At least they make him happy, she hopes. She can't (ever) be with him, so at least someone can.
"Was the guy she left you for worth it?" she asks. She watches him shift, stretch his neck.
"It looked like it. From what it looked like, she had been pining for him for ages, and he sort of grew to love her. His name was Paul, I think."
Briefly, May replaces Paul's name with his, and replaces Dawn with herself. It would be nice if she could have a love story like that. Not that she's pining for him, or anything… she just wants to touch someone, anyone. Preferably someone with green hair and a tantalizing smirk.
Who is she kidding? Of course she's pining for him.
He's the only one she has left.
Stop thinking about him.
She sighs.
"What's wrong, May? Jealous?"
May splutters. "N-no! What are you talking about? Who would I be jealous of?" She can just imagine him flicking his hair at her, but he doesn't.
"Paul, of course. He gets a lovely girl like Dawn…" Now she knows he is messing with her. She growls at him, and he laughs. It is a nice laugh, a sound she remembers from her life, both before and after. She giggles, despite herself.
"There it is… the sound I like to hear," he murmurs. May rolls her eyes. Sometimes she wishes he wouldn't pretend to like her, for her sake. It hurts a little too much when she's alone.
He must be pretending, after all. She knows he only comes to visit so he can take notes on his observations afterwards for his paranormal club. She doesn't really care. In exchange, he brings her blood (and roses). That's the closest she can get to "romance". After all, she's a vile, disgusting creature that just happens to come attached to a pretty face.
Thirst strikes her suddenly. Her hands fly to her mouth, she pinches her nose shut, and she closes her eyes, battling for control. There. It's okay. It's gone just as fast as it came.
"Green?" he asks cautiously after a minute. She nods, even though he can't see the gesture.
"Green," she breathes out, slowly resting her hands in her lap and relaxing once again. They had worked out a system when he brought her here. Green meant good, okay, fine, you can stay. Red, she could gasp out with the smallest amount of breath, and he would know to escape as fast as he could. They used the colors when he entered, and they used them when she underwent the sudden change in breathing that indicated her thirst.
They had only ever had two Reds when he was sitting inside the room. The second time, he had barely gotten away. She still cringes when she thinks about it.
If he dies, she will die too. No one will bring her blood to drink. Even if she found a way to let herself out (the door automatically locks when it closes, and she can't touch it because it's covered in garlic), she is sure she would go insane without him to balance her, because then she would have to kill (again) for her meals, and avoid the sun, and a whole lot of other things that are utterly stressful to her. She's just not cut out for this.
It doesn't help that she loves him, too. But she doesn't think about that.
She's already partly crazy as it is, she's pretty sure. She obsesses over this one boy, the one relic of her past she has left…
"I should leave," he says. Panic strikes at her, just like every time he mentions leaving.
"No! I mean… please stay a little longer," she (pleads) asks. He chuckles.
"All right." It's like a choreographed dance by now. He always stays longer when she asks him to. She loves him for it.
"Thank you…" She tries to hide her relief, but it still slips out with her words, diffusing into the air between them. She straightens out her skirt, readjusts her legs, waits for him to say more.
"Hey, May?" he asks. She looks up again.
"Yeah?"
"Can you…? Please?"
She glares at him, even though he can't see her in the dark. "No. Never. Stop asking me that," she mutters.
She smells a tingling sort of emotion coming from him. She can't place what it is, but it's nice. Maybe that's why he keeps asking.
"Thanks, anyway." He concedes to her today.
"You're welcome, Drew."
They've become so courteous with one another, now. It's partly because they're older, she supposes, and partly because they don't really know each other anymore (not for lack of trying). It's just that you can't truly know someone unless you see them in all facets of life. She doesn't (can't) watch him do contests or hang out with other humans, and he can't watch her drink (which is most of what she does when he's not there).
They talk for a while longer, and now he really has to leave. She lets him because it's getting late, and she wouldn't want to ruin the next day for him for lack of sleep. He throws her a rose, just as always, and she catches it with perfect precision, smiling softly.
She hears him lean down and tries not to think about the blood that he leaves for her by the door. She can't get thirsty again until he's gone. It would only be a matter of seconds before she would lose control, with both the blood and a human being in such close proximity.
The door shuts behind him, and she flits across the room to drink. As always, she rations it—she never knows exactly when he'll come back, but it usually takes a couple of days.
She is full soon enough, so she goes to lay down in her bed, pulling the wooden cover over the top. It's not a coffin, but it serves the same purpose—she can't even think of sleeping if she can see any source of light.
She drifts off, and though he came to visit today, she still doesn't feel content.
If only she could have been held by (or kissed and loved) him.
xXmDMdXx
Terror grabs at her, and she's running, running as fast as she can, but it's never fast enough. She can hear it gaining on her little by little. It's only a matter time before her stamina gives out, but for now, the adrenaline is on her side.
She hears screams, and closer, she hears it laughing.
Damn it! She trips, and it sends her sprawling, and there's no way she can get up in time. She turns to face it and kicks out, aiming for its face. It's too fast. She misses it. It's grabbing at her, wrenching her head to the side, biting at her neck.
"Ahh… ugh… nnnooo… NO!" she screams, lashing out at it with everything she has. By some miracle, she seems to have hit a sensitive spot, and it pulls away for a moment. It's enough time for her to escape, and it doesn't follow.
But it's too late. The venom has already penetrated her bloodstream.
Time speeds along, and she wakes up, seemingly from blacking out, and there's Max, looking at her, face crumpled with grief.
"You're okay! May! I thought you were dead!" he sobs, grabbing her arm. "They're all gone… we're the only one's left… Ash and Brock… they're gone…"
But the words he's saying aren't registering in her brain.
What is registering is the tiny beat of his heart, and the smell of blood emanating from his body.
The thirst ignites in her, and she lets out a growl, launching herself at him and taking him by the throat.
He doesn't get a chance to say anything else before she has sucked the life from his body.
xXmDMdXx
"AHHHHHH!" she shrieks, cries, sitting up and throwing the top off of her bed. Sobs wrack through her body. It's always the same nightmare every night, and she can't escape it. She can't escape what she did. It burns her, more than the sun, more than the brightness. The regret and the grief and the guilt flow through her, creating holes on her insides like acid.
Every night, this happens.
She can never escape.
xXmDMdXx
After the change had happened, she had tried to kill herself over and over again. She threw herself off of a cliff, and it hadn't even hurt. She couldn't drown, nor could she get trampled by a wild Pokémon.
She realized what she had to do after finally coming to terms with what she had become. She had just aimed the wooden stake at her heart when he found her.
"May! No! MAY! Don't you DARE!" he had screamed, running at her and knocking her over. The thirst returned, but she knew what it was this time, and she knew to run as fast as she could.
He ran after her, and she desperately tried to put more distance between them. She realized she could run faster now, and took full advantage of it.
"Get away from me!" she shouted behind her, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I don't want to kill anyone anymore… I don't want to lose you too!"
She heard him stop chasing her, and she dropped to her knees, sobbing. He stood a safe distance away, trembling, panting from exertion.
"I won't come any closer… but please… May… please don't die… I don't want to lose you either…" he gasped. She could smell the fear and sadness on him.
Oh, Drew. He was her weak point, the one person still alive who she would listen to. And so she listened, and she agreed to stop trying to die, and she agreed to "Wait right there!" while he made some preparations.
He brought her to her little room. It was the perfect place to waste away the rest of her life in.
At first he had suggested drinking Pokémon blood, but even that repulsed her. He finally remembered something he had heard in his paranormal club.
"I bet if I give them observations of you, they'll be able to smuggle me some donated blood."
"But that's wrong! That needs to be used for real people!"
"May. Shut. Up. You are a real person, to me, and I don't care. I'm keeping you alive, no matter what." He had looked forcefully into her eyes, and she had acquiesced.
Oh, Drew.
xXmDMdXx
Thinking of when he saved her is one of the few happy memories she has left. All of her memories before the change have been tainted by grief and guilt. But he remains untainted in her mind.
She looks at the small calendar she keeps. Today is Drew's birthday. She wishes she could give him some sort of present, but she doubts he'll even come to her today. He's probably with some new girlfriend.
She's so certain in that line of thought that it comes as a shock to her when the door opens later that night. Only he has a key to the outside lock, so it can't be anyone else.
"Why are you here?" she asks, staring at him quizzically. He is drenched. Apparently it's raining outside. She frowns at the door, which he has left standing open for some reason, but the night is pitch black because of the clouds, and he speaks before she has a chance to object.
"May… bite me."
She groans and glares at him. "No! Why do you keep asking me that?" she growls. It's the same question he had hinted at a few days prior, and indeed he had been asking it for months, but there's no way she would ever do it. It's only then she notices the desperation in his eyes.
"Please, May…" he sighs. "I don't know if I can deal with this anymore... you being like this… And I can't even…" He shakes his head, trailing off.
"What are you talking about?" she frowns at him, throwing him a towel. He rubs it through his hair and feels his way to his stool.
"Please don't act like you can't tell," he asks, crossing his arms. This isn't like him. He isn't supposed to be sad. He's supposed to be snarky and sarcastic and wonderful… "I know you can smell my feelings."
There it is. That tingling. It feels nice. It reminds her of him, of spending hours talking and the roses he throws her. But what is that feeling? She knows it's coming from him, but she can feel it in herself, too, because he's staring in her direction and his eyes are so beautiful and... The tingling. It's just like how she feels when she thinks about… loving him… Wait, what?
She looks up at him in surprise, opening and closing her mouth a few times. He frowns a bit, confused at her long silence, and then, strangely enough, he starts laughing.
"You couldn't tell! All this time, May, you couldn't tell, could you?" He's laughing so hard he's almost in tears. She glares at him again.
"Shut up! It's not like you ever told me, anyway," she mutters, looking away. He stops laughing, shaking his head.
"May… I love you."
Spikes of happiness fly through her and pierce her heart. It makes her so, so happy, but…
But.
She knows she can never be with him.
And because he always, always knows what she's thinking, he finally gives her a choice. No, he doesn't give her a choice; he makes her choose.
He stands up—she can hear the stool scraping against the floor—and he starts walking toward her. His gait is slow as he has to feel around to reach her, but even so, she panics.
"Drew! Stop! What are you doing?!" she yells, backing up against the wall immediately. The noise she makes only directs him further in her direction.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" is the only reply she gets.
"But… I could… I could kill you at any second! Please! Stay away!" She is terrified of hurting him. She starts to cry as the smell of blood grows stronger.
"You won't kill me, May. I trust you. It only takes a little bit of venom to get to the heart, you know," he smiles softly at her. "I want to be with you. I've never held you before. I've never kissed you, and I can't, not while you're like this. I know… you've never acted like you feel how I feel, but I've loved you for years, and I can't stand not being with you. If you feel the same way, May… bite me. And if you can't control yourself, or if you don't love me… then you can take the life from my body."
No! She doesn't want him to die!
She stares at him. "No… Drew… stop, please, stop…! I mean… what about contests and your life and all the things you love to do? And all of the people in your life?"
He sighs. "You're more important, May. They're not alone—even without me, they have other friends and family to love. But every time I think of you sitting in here, alone, it kills me a little bit inside. And yes, I'll miss them, but… every day I'm not with you, a hole opens up in my heart, and it's getting bigger every day. I'm nineteen now, and I don't want to be an old man by the time you finally decide you don't want me to leave… if you do this now, I can stay with you forever." His eyes are pleading, and oh, so convincing, but she can't…
At this point, he's only a couple of feet away from her.
"Please, Drew… I… I l-love y-you… I love you… so don't… make me do this. Please?" She's shaking so much she can barely speak.
He inches closer. She's holding her breath, but she can't hold it for long. He advances a couple of steps further, and then he has hand on her face, drawing ever closer as she stares up at him with wide, scared eyes.
Then, he kisses her. She is taken by surprise and accidentally breathes in (no no no), and the smell of his (wonderful) blood is just so close…
It feels amazing, and the tingling in her heart (her love for him) grows stronger just as her thirst makes itself known. She shudders, he rests his forehead on hers, and then he bares his neck.
Her impulses flare.
She loses control.
She bites him.
-fin-
A/N: I didn't want to mention that May was a vampire outright (as there's still lots of stigma attached to it from Twilight and the like). Rather, I let it unfold in the story by adding hints along the way. She doesn't like it, so she tries not to think the word (vampire), which is why the word never appears in the fic. She still hasn't really come to terms with what she is. Maybe Drew can help with that?
Leave a review if you'd like, as it'd be nice to know how well this was received. I was taking a gamble with the deaths and the cliffie ending, so we'll see! I don't see a sequel in the future, though, so I apologize in advance.
Thanks for reading,
Alexa xoxo~