"Go fuck yourself, you inept, insufferable, withering sack of soft—"
"Tell me how you really feel, Michael." David cooed. At some point he had scooted forward to the edge of the bed, back turned.
"When I get stronger," Michael seethed, fists bundling up in dusty antique sheets, "mark my words, I'm going to personally end you."
David merely chuckled. "Feeling nostalgic already?"
At this Michael reeled, nostrils flaring and fingers itching to get a hold of the elder vampire. In his weak state, he settled for talking heatedly at the back of his head. "You infuriate me. All you god damn do is infuriate me and make my life miserable."
"Lives. You mean your lives. It's a hard S."
Michael groaned. Though his anger proved much more prominent and feverish, panic slowly began to take hold and cloud his senses. He felt his insides clench in silent realization.What would he do now? He had said it before, he simply could not return to his family in such a state. Not again—even if they could help him. Not if it meant more tears from his mother, more disappointment from Sam.
Slapping at his face a few times, he tried to warrant his emotional and physical exhaustion away. When contemplating round one with the Lost Boys, Michael figured he had been admittedly too roused. Though he had been cautious around the gang, distrusting even, he let other emotions severely alter his judgment. His blind love for Star, and his competitive nature when facing David. This time however, Michael didn't have Star, Sam, or even the Frogs to bail him out. David held high promises, but Michael severely doubted the validity of anything he said, as he was simply too mischievous, and too damn knowing.
When the initiation was ongoing, and Sam had been blind to Michael's rapidly changing state, Michael had always been on edge. It was a pure, instinctual distaste he held for the Lost Boys. Star of course had done nothing but enhance his suspicions, and with the help of Edgar and Alan, Michael was able to momentarily sate his hunger, and break away from David's sphere of influence.
Still, there had been a few instances when the brotherhood had left him feeling completely fulfilled. Upon first glance, David was a mirror of everything Michael desired to be himself. Stoic, refined, surrounded by adoring individuals, and one beautiful girl. It came with a price, to which Michael knew, but he'd be damned if he denied, given the right circumstances, that he would turn such an opportunity down.
David had also on numerous occasions proved to consider Michael an equal, and if what he mentioned true, accepted Michael and Star as an item. Though David's words, his suggestions, they were always full of heat, laced in a teasing tone. Maybe playful, and definitely challenging, meant to entice Michael, to see how far he would go for the sake of the gang.
That damned jeweled wine bottle had done a lot in terms of the illusion that was David and his offer. As he drank, he found it had flushed him more so than David's smile, gratified him more than Paul, Dwayne, and Marko's adoring cheers. In that instance, it had made everything seem worthwhile.
But then Michael woke up, and damn was it an enlightening experience. Not only did he gross one hell of a hangover, but he received one that came with a whole lot of consequences, many atypical to the standard. It had changed his entire being, and through that small sickness he had momentarily seen the bad side of the other life. Soon, every event that followed seemed more and more abysmal.
Michael, who had momentarily settled down with the help of his thoughts, glanced rather reluctantly at David. His piqued curiosity was only mirrored back, as David had felt the other boys gaze and quickly provided a quirk of a smile. Michael blindly returned this, eyes quick to narrow in on the elder's lips. Michael found it to be only genuine. He breathed once, drew his eyes back to David, and after a moment of unexpected yearning finally averted his gaze. He wasn't too sure if it was his newly changed state, but the pull to David had definitely returned.
Draping the covers over his head, Michael instead dwelled on Star and Sam. They had definitely played an important piece in the whole fiasco, pushing him quicker to his senses and making his escape from death successful. Yet he still couldn't help but wonder…if fate had taken a different turn…
Max had wanted his mother for his own devices, throwing himself and Sam in the mix as a means of persuasion, in the hopes of a more whole family. If his desires for his mother had never formulated, would David still desire Michael as his brother? And if the initial plan had been implemented, love for Lucy and all, would Sam truly be beside him? Did David even desire Sam…such as David supposedly desired himself?
Though differing from Max's plan, Star had warned Michael that he was meant to be her first kill. David rejected this wholeheartedly, but it was certainly not out of the realms of possibility. If it were true, it would certainly change everything. Whether Star knew it or not, she had been, at some point, part of David as well as the Lost Boys. She served as a buffer, and without her insight, he could have surely died.
Michael wasn't sure who had seen him first. Was it Max, Star, or David? That small tidbit of information was diminishing his perceptiveness greatly, and Michael found himself holding his head regrettably as the headache returned.
"I see the gears turning in your head already. How about instead you figure this, Michael. It's been three days."
Michael propped his head over the covers, glancing at David wearily. He blinked once, misinterpreting his comment, before finally giving a response. "I'm sorry?"
"Three days. You've been asleep for three days. Like a baby." David snickered.
"Oh, hell—" Michael's eyes snapped open, body lurching forward without thought until he was propelled off the bed. His exhaustion simply proved too much, and he hit the ground with a dull thud.
David stopped short in front of him, bending down slightly. "No offense, but that was rather monotonous." He scooped Michael back up as if a mere paperweight, dumping him back onto the bed.
The quick motion sent a violent wave of nausea through Michael, and he barely had time to scramble over the side before blood spewed out of his mouth. He heaved for a few minutes, pawing at his stomach in absolute agony. "Ugh— Jesus Christ, you—unnf…don't remember this damn hangover lasting so long last time—I seriously, you know, this fucking feels like—"
"The hangover," David smirked, pausing to side-step over to where Michael lay hunched over, "is that what you call it? I mean I know I put my blood in that wine bottle last time, but I figure this time we'd skip formalities, so I just sank my teeth into you—"
Michael's stomach clenched, throwing up more blood and acid as different senses engulfed him. The ghost-like feeling of David drinking from him, and the smell of the still-blood soaked sheets. When he was sure there was nothing left to puke up, he slowly sat back on the bed, careful to pose upright, and closed his eyes tiredly. Three days in this hell hole and the beast had already broken him.
He opened one eye slowly as he felt David's hands roll up shirt.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He grumbled in obvious resistance. Michael sat still as David tugged it off his head however, suddenly too tired to argue and way too tired to fight. He shivered as more acid crawled up his throat.
"Don't want to get your shirt too dirty, Michael. I'm giving you more of my blood."
At this Michael snarled, eyes immediately flashing yellow. Though still so incredibly nauseated by the idea of blood, the vampire inside him reached out, urging him to rip into David. He was disgusted by the animalistic urgency his inner beast had reacted with, and although painful bit back the raw need to sneer menacingly at David's proposition. "Did you not just see me puke your shit up? What makes you think I want more?"
"Don't be so melodramatic," David drawled, pushing his wrist out closer to Michael's lips, "You only got nauseous because you got up too quickly, three days left you too inactive. A new vampire has got to stretch his legs, his new set of teeth."
Wherever David moved his wrist, Michael was quick to turn his head away. He kept his mouth in a firm line, careful not to reveal his aching fangs. He knew if they made an appearance, it would all be over.
"I'm not…going to give you power over me." Michael stated, covering his mouth as he spoke. He turned confidently to David, to make sure he understood the venom in his voice, but was only met with an elevated laugh.
"Power," David half-laughed half-questioned, crawling over Michael till he was straddling the younger boy's hips. "You think right now, that you have an ounce of power of me? Michael, I just turned you. Every fiber of your being is now infused with me, and every decision you make hereafter will be made with a nod of approval from, you guessed it, me. "
Michael squirmed to get out of David's hold, but the boy above him merely pressed an index finger against Michael's forehead, and the act held him into place. "You can't stop thinking about me, isn't that right?"
Michael opened his mouth to retort, but no words were able to come out. A moan instead escaped his lips as David's finger trailed down Michael's body, flicking a nipple.
"Funny, how in your newborn state, you're also hypersensitive to my touch."
"—Please," Michael pleaded, raising a weak arm to grasp David's wrist in opposition, "please don't—"
"I think," David drawled, licking his lips once before scanning his eyes over the taut, muscular body underneath him, "it's actually kind of neat."
Michael cried out as David rubbed over it again.