Seth's blood tastes bitter.
It's sharp, acrid almost, on Richie's tongue; burns his throat as it goes down, but he doesn't stop. He can't stop.
A moan escapes Seth's mouth. The noise is weak, almost a sigh as he reaches up to clutch weakly at Richie's shoulder, though whether he's trying to pull him closer or push him away, Richie can't tell. Maybe it's both.
He's bleeding too quickly. What blood isn't seeping from the punctures in Seth's neck is instead spilling even faster from the bullet wound in his chest, and if he loses too much before Richie's venom takes hold, then it's over. Richie can't let that happen.
I don't need you anymore.
At first Richie doesn't understand why blood, once the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, should turn so sour in his mouth. It's his brother's blood. If anything should taste pure and sweet to him, it's this. Then he realises he can taste Seth's soul, and it's screaming. It tastes of guilt, for everything they've done. And fear. As Richie drinks deeper, it's suddenly like looking in a mirror and seeing himself through Seth's eyes. He feels the terror, the disgust of watching his brother who's not his brother anymore feed on blood and souls and people. Seth sees him as a monster.
Richie almost chokes.
Jealous, Seth? I'm stronger than you now. Better.
The shock, the bitterness of it, is almost enough to make him stop. He knows Seth never wanted this, that he'd rather live fast and die human than ever be turned, but fuck it, Richie doesn't care. He can't be left on his own, and Seth doesn't have the luxury of dying on his own terms now. This is the only way.
Seth moans again. This time it's more of a whimper, and it's like a knife in Richie's chest. His brother's going to hate him for this. He drives his fangs in deeper, sucks harder at the vein to coax out the blood that's slowing to a trickle as he feels Seth's heartbeat fading, but it still isn't enough. It tastes like betrayal, sour and curdled. Seth weakly tries to reach up higher.
I'm done playing second fiddle to you.
Seth fingers find Richie's face, brush lightly over his skin, and something breaks. It's like a wave crashing over a shore then receding, carrying with it the dirt obscuring the beauty below. The bitterness gives way to sweetness. It hits Richie's tongue in a sudden burst, and it makes him clutch onto Seth tighter in shock.
Yes, there's fear and anger and hurt still boiling away in the fading light of Seth's soul, but what Richie tastes now is love. For all the bad blood between them, they're still brothers.
I can make it without you. You're the one who needs me.
The thoughts haunt him. Every lie Richie has ever told himself that he's better off with Seth gone scream inside his head, and he hates himself for ever believing it.
Seth, I lied. Don't leave.
Their fleeting moment of connection passes in a heartbeat. Richie feels the coldness of Seth's fingers slip from his skin, and he knows what that touch means. Let me go.
Only then does Richie stop. He pulls back, Seth's blood already cold on his lips as he gazes down at his brother's ghost-pale face. Seth's eyelids flutter once, then fall still. "Seth?"
There's a rush of hope mixed with dread as Richie wonders if it worked. The venom should have been enough. It had been enough to save him when he was the one slowly bleeding out, but Seth had fought so hard to not give up his soul. What if he hadn't let Richie in until it was too late…?
"Hey, come on, man. Stop being a stubborn dick. Wake up."
No response.
Richie taps Seth's cheek, almost a slap as he doesn't quite realise the extent of his desperation. "Hey! Listen to me. It's better this way. We can be equals again, man. We can be brothers."
Nothing.
"Seth?"
There's only silence. Seth's body is cold in his arms, no pulse, no breath. The fire of Seth's blood has faded to nothing in Richie's mouth, leaving behind only emptiness. His brother is gone.