A/N: Mmmgh. Chapter 6. Again, step back about two minutes or something, we open with Finas's viewpoint. This is an extremely heartbreaking scene, I will just say right now. I would love if people would review about their reactions and such, I want to know that people are actually READING this.
As a sidenote, I don't know if I'm going to update next week. I have the chapters, we can still keep this up, but I'm going to my mother's. I don't know how long or anything. She has a computer, so odds are in my favor, but I'm still unsure. Just a heads up.
Also, this chapter references to a comic by emif on deviantArt, I suggest you look it up. We make a lot of references actually, like Veser and the goldfish and Cas's losing control. Please, do try to find the pictures we get our inspiration from.
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Things were not turning out as well as Finas could have hoped.
He knew that Casimiro would be unhappy with his decision, and he knew that the Italian was highly emotional, and on the rare occasion, dramatic. He had expected the anger focused towards him. He had expected disbelief.
But he had never expected the desperate tone his friend had taken on.
"But I can't stop! How can yo- please, please tell me you're joking? This is a fucking joke, right?"
The Italian was running his fingers through his hair, his expression pained. It was all the Englishman could do to keep a straight face as he began to pace, looking away from him.
"What… What are you asking… you know right? You know what you are asking of me right!"
Yes, yes, Finas knew exactly what he was asking! He knew that it would seem impossible for the Italian to stop, but if this relationship, this dysfunctional, tight, brotherly bond meant anything to him, he would do what he felt was right. Finas had that much faith in the man.
And if he couldn't stop, then Finas would leave, and he would try to make it as painless as possible. He didn't wantto hurt his friend, he didn't want to put him in a position where he would suffer either way. But there was no other way out. Finas would not put up with this anymore, not when it made him watch his best friend change into some sort of monster.
"Finas… Finas! I refuse to make such a stupid decision- I shouldn't have… Fuck! How… Fuck! Finas, I cannot just give up on my revenge! I can't just let that whore get away with what she's done to me!"
To his utter surprise, Finas saw tears beginning to falling from Casimiro's eyes, both eyes. He was causing Cas emotional pain.
He nearly broke in his resolve then, but his stubborn will—something he'd had for centuries and had unfortunately helped to breed in his partner—kept him from taking back his words, from saying yes Cas, I was joking, everything will be alright, listen to me. His exhaustion told him he couldn't lie to his friend, he couldn't do this anymore.
Then came the anger he had been expecting.
"She turned me, she turned me on a fucking whim! I had a life, a family-they mattered, I know they mattered… She laughed and said it never mattered, says that I'd forget in time, but… Finas, I don't wantto forget!" Finas could see him shaking, shaking madly, trying to relax. He could see the strain. He wished to grab his friend and help him. How the hell could he when he was the cause of the strain?
Finas felt more than a little guilty, of course. The man in front of him as falling apart, and all he had to really do to fix it was deny what he wanted. But he was too selfish for that. Finas, selfish! Such a thing was unheard of, yet here was clear proof that it happened.
"You're asking me to choose between you and my self-worth Finas! You, you may have thrown away your past like it was fucking garbage, and decided to live like an hollowed out shadowof a man, but I refuse to do anything like that! I am not hollow, I am not dead!"
Finas physically winced, not from the words, but from the tone directed at him. Cas was furious. The broken man Finas had seen only moments ago was gone, and some terrifying monster was taking its place. Finas hated that monster, hated what it did to the man he trusted.
Even now he could see to fire spreading from the Italian's eye, spreading quickly. The human voice was turning into guttural screaming as bleach white bone was revealed.
Even now Finas held his ground, holding still. He trusted Cas. Even angry as he was, he would find control, they wouldn't get each other hurt. They'd been together too long to let that happen. They looked out for each other. Surely Cas wouldn't—
An inhuman scream filled the air, and Finas barely comprehended as he was thrown back. Sharp, ragged claws tore their way into his chest, and Finas let out an audible gasp. Instinct kicked in, and he kicked his feet forward, propelling himself away from the enemy, claws being torn out of his cavity.
When Finas landed on the other side of the roof, it was not with the agility that which with he usually landed. It was jolty and pathetic. It was the landing of someone that was totally unaware of the circumstances.
The bleached white jagged claw tore back, now stained with blood, blood of which its excess splattered back behind the demon as the claw rose into the air, knees bent as though he were about to go in and finish the job.
But it didn't.
It hesitated, it hesitated, looking confused as to why it was hesitating. The climax of the moment, of the anger the vampire that had just previously lost control of was over. It was like he was falling from that climax, crashing back into the unsettling reality that he had just created for himself. His skin, his human skin returned, and at first Casimiro seemed to have his bewildered lost expression, like he couldn't understand what was happening. Like he just walked onto the roof just seconds prior and this scene that could never have been his fault was already here.
He looked, dazed across the gravel to the crumbled up body up on the far side. That person that was still somehow alive despite that gash in his chest… That person that shouldn't, couldn't be, but was Finas.
Finas.
Finas.
Finas.
The Italian was stricken with shock, trying to piece together what had happened. They were talking, then Finas… Then he…. No, no, that… No he didn't do this, he couldn't have, even though the memory of it burned so brightly, it wasn't real, he couldn't have-
There was a chill on his hand.
Shaking he looked down at it, seeing his hand was coated in fresh blood.
Fresh blood, that belonged to Finas, for that scent could not belong to any other.
Finas was vaguely aware that his legs were not underneath him; rather, they were folded in front of him. Almost as though he were sitting. But he didn't… remember moving….
His chest felt odd. He placed a hand to the area, only to feel something wet. He pulled his hand back.
Stared at it.
In this poor light, he could only see the black liquid that covered his palm. But the smell was unmistakable.
He blinked.
Looked at it.
Blinked again.
It was still there.
Eyes drawn to the dark stuff that stank of death, Finas forced himself to swallow.
"C-Cas?" To his embarrassment, his voice shook. But it couldn't be helped, even if he didn't know why.
Casimiro's horrified eyes drifted over back at Finas. He tripped over his own words, he was injured and he… no…no..."I c-couldn't…" he breathed out those words with no will to finish it.
"What just…?"
The edge of his vision began to fade.
Oh. Oh god.
Why wasn't he finishing that sentence?
"Finas!" He broke out of his shock and faster then he could think, he was by his old comrade's side. He was rarely one to react with fear, normally he was the fearless one. But there it was, that foreign ball of terror nestled in the pit of his stomach, cracking open like an egg.
"Oh dios mio… It's going to be okay Finny, I swear, it's going to be alright…" his voice shook with that fear that was clawing in his insides, tearing him apart like he had swallowed glass. His hands hovered over his friend's body, freezing inches away from him like he just couldn't physically touch him.
Like he shouldn't touch him.
His eyes drew back down at his chest, and he felt that horror tear about even more in his chest. No, it wasn't complete horror… no. He kept calling it that because this was the closest feeling to that. Guilt was a foreign feeling that he'd rarely felt, rarely enough as it seemed that he was having a difficult time knowing what to call that sinking, scraping void inside his chest.
He stared at the gash wound, that ruined shirt and coat now stained with black blood. He stared at it and became aware of the chill of his still damp hand…. He did this, he.
He did this.
He did this in anger.
"Y-You…" Finas was telling him… telling him that he was going to leave him. And instead of listening, he just made it so Finas would never reconsider.
He was never going to reconsider.
"No, no, riesco risolvere il problem…" He could, he can, he can fix this! He couldn't, wouldn't leave it like this. He couldn't, couldn't, couldn't…
He forced his hands to move again, nevermind that stinging guilt that was killing him slowly, eatinghim slowly, bit by bit, flake by flake of flesh. His wrapped his arms around Finas and picked him up, held him close and felt that ghost of a memory.
This wasn't the first, where he had to carry Finas home.
But that was long ago, and it was truly a mistake. He didn't know he was being left behind, he didn't know until it was too late that Finas would be trapped under a bush brow, hiding from the sun. That was long ago, and truly no one could be at blame for that.
This, this was however his fault.
He lost his temper at Finas.
He used his curse against Finas.
It was intentional, no matter how much regret was tacked onto it, it was fucking intentional.
But that can't… It wouldn't matter would it?
The weight in his arm screamed yes, but he did his best to ignore it.
He had to.
He couldn't bear it if it did.
The apartment they were currently housed in was just a few buildings over. Obviously not being able to just fly there, he took the fire escape down, doing well as to not agitate the wound, but at the same time being quick about it.
He wasn't heavy- or maybe he was, and he just couldn't notice it, not with his inhuman body. But he found himself thankful for the empty streets, the same streets he was cursing earlier for the same reason. No one was looking, no one was staring, no questions, no distractions, no explanations or problems. It was just himself, and Finas, who didn't seem very lucid at all; which pushed the man into a sprint.
What did he do?
What did he do?
He was feeling frantic again, losing nerve. That weight that wasn't supposed to be heavy was becoming so. He did this. But he could fix it, he would and Finas would scold him and maybe not even talk to him for days, but… It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't. It wouldn't.
It wouldn't.
He hugged the body subconsciously closer to himself, muttering a flimsy string of apologies that may or may not have been all in English. He didn't even know anymore, as he felt as though he was moving on auto. At the arrival of the apartment building, he tapped up the flight of stairs, feeling that franticness rise as he was no longer in the safety of the shadows, but instead now in full view of the yellow lights that hung above the outdoor walk ways. But there it was, room number 37, like a prize at the end of a journey. He entered the small apartment and kicked the door closed. The apartment still stunk of the human that once lived here, though she'd been dead and drained for quite some time. A silly college woman that wouldn't be noticed missing for at least three days.
He entered the bedroom and propped Finas up on the bed, carefully peeling off the damp coat and shirt, not needing the light- not wanting the light to see. He could see enough, he didn't want the light detailing it all with the unnecessary shades of blood and the purplish hues of bruising that was sure to be there.
He didn't need that.
He could see enough.
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!"
He could see enough.
More than enough.
He had to leave his side for a moment, mumbling still a string of babbling apologies, lightly seasoned with profanities.
He wasn't even sure if he was even speaking Italian or English anymore.
He came back, and cleaned the wound with a damp cloth, trying to reassure himself that it just wasn't that bad, but it was, it was worse, if only by the fact that he was the one that DID this.
It struck him that he could never fix that.
He could never fix that fact that he attacked Finas.
"Gesù Cristo cazzo, Finas…" What could he say, what could he possibly fucking say to fix that? His friend could crumble into ash at any moment and it would be because he couldn't accept what Finas was saying.
He was being too reckless.
"…"
He was silent for the duration it took to bandage Finas's chest. He bandaged it, and when he was finished, he was silent for a little more.
"This cannot continue—revenge and destruction gain nothing."
He sat by Finas's side, but now not having to, he no longer was looking at him. His stare was focused more on the floor, as he wiped his hands with the damp cloth. He was still, with a blank expression. "You wanted to leave… before this happened didn't you?" he muttered. "You knew that I'd… I'd fuck up. I fucked up."
His eye was aching, causing him to slap his hand over his eye, digging his nails into his skin. No, no, he wasn't turning. It was that familiar ache, but…
He ignored it when it mattered most.
He fueled it.
"You… wanted me to stop before this happened…" He kept talking, not knowing or caring if Finas was lucid or conscious enough to even hear it. "…But now that it has…"
He couldn't stop.
Because now there was literally nothing left here for him.
He couldn't fix this.
"I can't stop."
He didn't deserve for it to be fixed.
"But I won't burden you any longer Finny."
He got up, and placed a blood packet- a left-over from their host on the nightstand, before turning to leave.
He was leaving.
And there wasn't any turning back.
And the walk to the front door seemed ordinary, and easy at first, until came time to turn the door knob to open it.
But his hand refused to obey him at the last possible minute. It froze. It was frozen on that knob and it was refusing to let him leave.
Frozen.
He knew. He knew once he left this room there was never coming back, but what choice did he have? He couldn't stay. He lost that right. He did not have the luxury of choice, because he damned himself to this…
To this…
But even so, his hand was frozen. It wouldn't budge, it wouldn't turn the knob. What happens now?
Once that door would open and close with him on the other side, it would never open again. Nothing he could say or do beyond this point would change that. He could never take back those words, nor could he ever take back those actions.
"It's for the best…" he said, almost snapping at himself. He couldn't be a burden to Finas any longer. He couldn't risk a next time. Because there would be a next time, if he allowed it. "…It's for the best isn't it?" A whisper now, unsure of who he was asking.
Not Finas obviously, he'd been rendered fucking unconscious in the other room thanks to him so carelessly losing his...
His...
...
Humanity?
One half of him was a vampire and the other this demon from the depths of hell.
There was no humanity left.
"I'm the hollow one aren't I?" he said to himself with a pained smile dancing across his face.
There was nothing left for him.
Not in this apartment.
He regained control of his subconscious and exited the small, dark apartment.
Never looking back.