Even though Michael had made that silent promise to himself, he found himself returning to where David lay almost every day after school. Most days he visited him cried over the loss of him, other days he laughed fondly at his memory. Once, Michael stupidly kissed him. That's right, David's cold, time-frozen, and unknowing lips against his own. He felt it was all he could offer in compliance. Michael still has no idea what possessed him to do it, maybe he was increasingly becoming the very thing he tried to stray away from. Maybe he was lost.
After about 3 months of constant visits to see him, he certainly however, became mad.
Michael's mind began to supply thoughts to convince himself that he could revive David, as his dead body had not yet decomposed. He was dumb enough to believe it, and with a quick intake of breath had sliced into his wrist, deep enough for a steady flow of blood, and attempted to nurse him back to health. There was, of course, no stirring of his body back to life, no feeling of David's lips moving against his wrist; and thus he deemed his reanimation a lost cause. It was after that day Michael began to feel really hopeless, and increasingly more depressed and unsatisfied with his return to human life.
Every day of school was a struggle for Michael Emerson. He rebelled in class, fucked his GPA up, and even riled up fights with other students for the hell of it. He drank, partied, took up smoking, and became distant with his once close brother and mother. Star was Star, he still made sure to take her out on dates and keep her around his arm. She was the only constant in his life, and he very much liked it that way. Maybe his time with her still reminded him of his days as an immortal. Those were the days he wished would be repeated, even if she did not.
With these lingering thoughts still within his mind, he pulled once again out of the school's senior lot at lunch time, making the now daily route to the unknown hotel. Upon reaching the location he kicked off his bike, eagerly hopping off at the thought of spending the day with David. He eventually increased his speed to a jog, thinking he could once again discuss with him how shitty things were lately in my life, how much he missed the old days. It was a rather pitiful personal therapy.
Reaching the bedroom, however, Michael came to a screeching halt as David's body was nowhere to be found. He stood perfectly still for what was deemed to be roughly ten minutes, shocked into utter disbelief.
"What. The. Fuck." He finally cried out, wondering who the hell could have discovered him. Who even knew about the place? Sam? No, couldn't be. Perhaps it was those twerps, the Frog Brothers? They wouldn't think of coming here again, would they? Unless.
Michael's stomach began to do little flips. He dashed in and out of each room in the place calling out David's name, desperately waiting for any form of response. In his haste, and with the help of the always dimly lit rooms, he eventually managed to trip and crash into another solid entity. With quick reflexes he caught himself appropriately, clutching onto the other body and twirling himself around. His heart accelerated with anticipation, and although not the most appropriate guess, Michael's mind dashed to the only conclusion it wanted to hear.
"Dav—," His newly formed smile faltered.
Standing there, equally as breathless, was his beautiful Star. She didn't look surprised in the slightest to see him; if anything she seemed a little nervous to speak, creases worrying at her brow.
"Michael, I thought I'd find you here."
Her instigation both surprised and irritated him.
"Oh you did now, did you? And why is that." Had Star been coming here? Did she know, about David? Had she been the one to move him? He narrowed my eyes in accusing contemplation.
She, not discovering his harsh gaze in the darkness, managed to look sheepish. "I know the past haunts you. You have nightmares, and I do too, Michael! I know over time you'll be able to let go, you're strong, and your time may not be here yet, but…"
"But…" he replied, equally as exasperated. He didn't know where she was going with this. He didn't know why she was here. Michael just needed to find David.
She tripped a little over her words, twirling her hair between her fingers as if to buy more time. "L-Listen. Me and Laddie, we never got the—the comfort you got! Sure we all shared the same experience, but you, you got the loving family in the end."
"And you want to find them, to return to them." He finished for her, nodding in agreement as his mind filled in the blanks. He understood now. It had been all his girl had ever wanted, and it was only right she seek out what had been so wrongfully taken from her.
"Oh, Michael," She sobbed, now wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him fondly. "You understand that, yes? Oh, Michael, I knew you would understand! I know this won't be the end for us. Just give us both some time, to find them. Michael, I'll miss you."
Star soon became a blubbering mess on his shoulder, and so Michael wrapped his arms around her waist in support, holding her close to him. Sure, he did understand. After all, they were all lost…
"Of course, you do what you need to."
She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve and kissed him again.
"Michael, I love you." Another longing peck was placed on his mouth.
"Yeah, I love you too Star." He kissed her once more, probably the last for ages.
"I'll see you again, I will." And with that she disappeared into the shadows, leaving him once again, alone.
In the heat of the moment he had temporarily forgotten his search, mind still lingering around Star's warm body, the touch of her lips. Michael tentatively raised a finger to his mouth and smiled. Yes, he would surely miss her. Caught in his own world, what happened next truly caught him off guard.
"Yu-ck." He heard a hiss of a voice from behind him. Michael froze immediately.
There was no mistaking it, for his dreams had carried its tune long after he had attempted to push its memory aside. It simply refused to let him forget. He was sure he was going to puke.
His voice, the very voice that had so terribly haunted Michael's soul for the last few months then spoke clearly. "What is it you see in her again, Michael? I figured you and I were one in the same, but I lost interest in about a week."
"David."
"Max always warned me she was a bad idea, but I suppose he did that with the boys as well. I got lonely though, thought they were all something I'd still desire in the long-run."
"David…" Michael screeched out. He could feel tension begin to reach the surface, and he willed away any fear that arose when his hands began to shake.
"Well, the one and only."
He couldn't even turn around to bring them face to face. Though their thread of influence abolished from his parting, though his gaze not directly upon him he had an unnameable control over Michael, and thus fear pooled into his very being. His palms were soon covered in sweat and his mouth taking in air at a rather unhealthy rate. Michael tried to take pause and gather reason to the abrupt change of the situation, yet his mouth did little to aid the process, spurting out his anxiety. "I don't. I don't understand, you were gone—I."
"Michael, Michael," He retorted easily, snapping his fingers together to light and accommodate the mood. Michael knew he was doing this to further instill fear. He knew it by the twitch of his lips, the illumination of his unworldly yellow eyes. He was being mocked. "Poor, naive Michael."
"How?" Michael spun on his heels, growing bolder as he realized David was playing his old tricks, attempting to break him down. Parlor tricks, tricks Michael had grown all too accustomed to by now. He had not feared this beast then, and he decided he could not afford to now. Though upon the shifting of his gaze to David's own he faltered, he tried to remain impassive about David's unchanged appearance. His lips were upturned in an obvious snarl, exposing brilliantly playful pointed canines, while his eyes remained dark and calculating. On the days prior Michael could easily have described him as angelic, face peaceful in his eternal slumber, smile the symbol of childhood innocence. Now his young face held a hint of aggression, his once soft features crinkling as the beast began to transform. So he wanted to play. Michael Emerson could play too.
"Cut to the chase, tell me how."
Michael made sure to raise his voice again to gain his full and undivided attention. David would know he was not playing around, and if he had his doubts, well, he would make him see who was truly in control.
As he continued to summon up all the courage he had in my body, Michael's ears, with a keen sense now being rather unfairly thrust into darkness, picked up the clatter towards the back of the room. He could hear an irritated sigh as pockets were ruffled, the familiar click of a lighter drawn, and an inhale of breath that bore the likeness of a drag of a cigar. Three intakes of breath were taken before he spoke again.
"Why would you ask me a question like that? Why don't you ask yourself?"
Michael's eyebrows knitted together sharply, and among the obvious pinpricks of fear, showed noticeable uncertainty. Yes, a while back he had, at least, attempted to revive him. With not even the slightest successful result, might he add. Afterwards, relying on Grandpa's obviously higher understanding, he accepted him dead.
David blew out another puff of smoke, eyes moving askew as if asking to disregard his former question.
"Got Nothing? 'Course not. Well then, Michael."
"David."
Ah, another puff of that too thick smoke. Though his motions disgusted Michael, his body began to naturally itch for it, knowing damn well that the gang had gotten him addicted.
"What about my boys?"
"Gone." Michael replied, in all guilt-free honesty. It was a topic he had now lingered upon far too long. Then how was it he was still here?
"Max too, huh."
Michael shifted from foot to foot. For months he had wished for this man's return, yet, with him standing right in front of me he could think of nothing to say, nothing to do, nowhere to crawl and hide.
David stared at him intently, looking him up and down slowly as he took in another drag. Michael held out my hand expectantly.
In his eyes Michael saw a flicker of surprise before he pulled out a cigarette, just for him, laughing in that deep throaty chuckle. God, Michael had missed that sweet, melodic sound. God, how he couldn't believe he was here, really here, right in front of him. No, he shook my head to clear such ridiculous thoughts. David's death had changed something in him, that much was certain. He knew he felt guilt about the unfortunate circumstances that they had both been thrust into, but he could not afford to sympathize. Michael could not afford to be lured in, in any way possible. It was part of the beast's charm.
As the silence dragged on and Michael began to take in long drags of his own cigarette, he got increasingly more nervous about what his return would mean for the future. Surely, David must hate him. After all, he had helped kill his boys. He had killed him. Michael had been full of heart and courage in the confines of demons, refusing to kill after being transformed into what could easily be considered the world's most ruthless killing machine. Yet, his words of supposed wisdom had ultimately amounted to nothing, as he had blood on his hands all the same.
"I know what you're thinking." To this, Michael's head jerked up at David's rather abrupt outburst, eyes searching wildly for meanings in the dark. He made sure to put more distance between himself and the vampire as he understood David's implication had been said with a hint of aggression. He caught himself, however, realizing quickly that no matter which way he side-stepped death, he was, and had been for many months, dead inside. Go ahead and kill me then, you sick bastard, he thought. Yes, Michael Emerson had died long ago anyway.
"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Michael."
Michael laughed freely at how casually David said it. He knew too well this man, the man who had twisted his life, emotions, and his dreams. He knew he wanted even, whether that meant his soul or not. Only a fool wouldn't think the game just beginning.
David smiled wide then, a harsh contrast to his formerly foul and unresponsive tone. Michael braced himself for the inevitable events that would follow soon after.
"No, not kill. I would never claim this gift to be such a fate. You and I both know it's so much more."
"You're going to turn me," Michael stated slowly, unsure, "Is that it? Last time, the bottle—"
"Last time I gave you a choice. This time I won't make the same mistake."
"I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"
"To you, it's a fate much worse than death."