My sneakers slapped against the pavement as I made my third trip around the neighbourhood. The night air was clean and cool but I felt like I was running through the fires of hell. Running was supposed to be calming. But the way my stomach lurched made me feel sick. I kept running.
I pumped my legs, listening to the ragged sound of my own breathing just to shut off my brain for one second.
His face the whole time had been the worst thing. Pity warped by guilt and like he understood. No one understood how rejected I had felt. And the way Anders had laughed, like it was a joke and the way his face changed when he realized it wasn't.
It had been forever, years even. But it still tore at me like a wound that wouldn't close. I would get too comfortable and feel okay and then I'd remember that if my packâif my family knew about me then they'd reject me the way Anders had. Everyone would just leave.
I kept running. My knees throbbed, my feet ached and the feeling of blood climbing up my throat was making me nauseous. I didn't realize when I stopped running, or when I ran out of water.
I was back at the hotel, drenched in sweat and stumbling. It had been several minutes since I must have stopped but my heart was still racing as the sweat cooled on my skin. The receptionist said hello but I ignored him pretending I was listening to music.
I breathed before opening the door, not wanting to talk to Xander. He was propped at the computer desk, smelling freshly showered and his hair braided down in a corn row style against his scalp. He was humming while wearing earplugs. But when he noticed me his nostrils flared and jolted upwards.
"Achillesâ" Xander said quietly. "Can we talk?"
I ignored him, feeling inexplicably irritated by his presence. I dug through my luggage, looking for a change of clothes and toiletries. "Gonna shower." I grunted before slamming the bathroom door.
#
After my shower, I shaved the stubble that had been building for the past few days and was struck by the bane of my existence; the bracelet. Maybe if I just forcibly removed it I'd feel better.
I sat down on the closed toilet seat, fidgeting with my razor and carefully extracting the blade from its place holder. I held the serrated piece of metal between my finger tips before pushing a finger against the edge, watching my skin pucker and a bead of red begin to well up.
I took a deep breath and moved the razor down to the bracelet, beginning to saw away at the metal. The sound of metal grating against metal filled the space as I carded carefully. The band tended to shrink if I even thought about removing it. It was tight against my skin and I made sure not to slice myself accidentally.
The bracelet heated up unexpectedly and tightened further on my wrist. I huffed in frustration as I pressed harder, trying to cut into the metal. I just wanted it off. Gone. Away. Out of my life. With every thought I pressed harder and with more force even when the metal didn't give.
My grip on the razor was slick with my own sweat making my finger slip. The razor cut a long, deep gash into the skin beneath my wrist and down my forearm.
Shock came before fear as I watched in horror as an incredible amount of pain followed the sight of the wide cut, blood beginning to fountain upwards as rivulets of blood washed down my arms.
A second later was when I realized that Xander had been knocking on the door. Knocking and knocking until he burst in.
I stared at him beginning to feel light headed, still holding the bloody razor, and feeling self conscious in my too small hotel towel which was wrapped around my waist.
Xander's eyes were locked on my wrist, his pupils had enlarged enough to make the green in his eyes all but dissapear. He had trouble talking around his fangs. "What did you do?" He practically hissed. "Why would you...?"
"It was an accident! I was justâ"
Xander knelt in front of me, talking in English, French and something else I couldn't even begin to understand. He stood up, opening the bathroom cabinet and taking out a small first aid kit.
My nostrils were thick with the scent of blood, and Xander so close, entirely too close. He took out pieces of gauze, dabbing at the cut, before pressing it against my arm in a hard grip. The material quickly turned red and I realized I was losing an alarming amount of blood. That was when the dizziness set in.
Xander looked up at me, eyes all pupil. "You need stitches. My needle work isn't the best, so we have to go to a hospital. They might put you on psych eval because it looks like youâ" he swallowed, eyes wide and so afraid.
"It really was an accident." For some reason, I needed him to know that. "But can't you do something?" My voice was slurred and uneven and I could barely understand what I was saying. I couldn't feel my legs and my arm felt like it was on fire.
He licked his lips, fangs dimpling his bottom lip. "Do you want me to?"
My vision blackened and I just wanted the pain and confusion to end. "Please."
Xander's fangs receded as his pink tongue snaked out of his mouth. He licked down the line of my arm, quietly slurping at my skin before he licked down the cut and where ever the blood had sluiced down to. Some blood was drying on my fingers and he drank that, too, closing his eyes briefly and humming. He licked at my arm again, and I watched in awe as the gaping cut closed, skin stitching back together like it had never been terribly severed. "Oh." Xander said in something awfully close to a moan. He looked up at me, still kneeling between my legs on the bathroom tile. He sucked on his bottom lip, looking up at me in eyes that seemed absolutely worshipful.
I was struck by the desire to kiss him, even if he had just drank my blood.
Xander's voice came out huskier than usual. "Vampire saliva introduces epinephrine and dopamine to your system. It can make you feel a bit euphoric or high, so I guess stay aware, and there are other properties that promote healing and blood production, so..."
"Thank you for helping me." I said quietly, feeling ashamed for being so stupid. "I'd like to uhm...Put on more than a towel, please."
He blinked at me, patting me awkwardly on the knee before getting up and closing the door behind himself. I got up, looking at the healed cut in the mirror, in complete awe. Not even a scratch.
I changed quickly into an old worn university t-shirt and sweats. Xander was lying on the bed, seemingly waiting for me to emerge. I pushed my dirty clothes into a hamper bag and moved them to the side of my luggage.
Xander had laid out a platter of assorted cheeses, cold cuts of meat, crackers and a few breads. "I want you to eat." He said slowly, just watching me. So, we weren't going to talk about what just happened.
I sat beside him on the bed noticing he was wearing another pair of silk pajamas but he'd abandoned all pretense of leaving the silk shirt buttoned. His brown skin was entirely on display as he assembled everything on the tray.
"Where'd you even get this?" I asked, knowing this was too fancy for room service.
"I brought it with me in my cooler." He said while pulling out said cooler and taking out plastic wine glasses and a bottle of wine that I totally did not expect.
"Why?"
He almost looked embarrassed. "I've heard shifters eat a lot. I wanted you to be...satisfied."Â He arranged the platter on the table, and then gestured for me to sit in the seat across from him.
It looked like a hastily made effort at a romantic evening in that for some reason made my throat construct. "I'm sorry for storming out earlier." I said while Xander poured me a glass of white wine.
"No, I'm sorry." Xander said quickly. "You told me something deeply personal about yourself and I barely reacted. I shouldn't have let you walk off like that. I'm sorry your brother isn't accepting of you. You don't deserve that. Honestly." He locked eyes with me. "Being out is hard, and frightening. It's hard to know if people will accept you or not. It's hard to come out all the time to different people in different situations and it never really ends. AndâI don't know how much it means coming from me, but being bi doesn't make you less than, and it doesn't make you different. It's just a part of who you are. And that's okay." Xander gave me a tentative smile. "Like the fact you snore, or you're a shifter or you eat a lot. Those are all just things." Xander sighed. "And he's an ass-wipe if he's not willing to accept you."
I laughed at that, feeling choked. "I don't know why you're so nice to me."
"I do like you. I mean I can't help some of it but that's okay, I don't mind." His voice was soft. "And, it's okay to be afraid. And uncertain. It doesn't make you weak. It just makes you human."
I nodded, piecing together some meats and cheeses on a piece of bread, almost believing him.
#
I didn't realize Xander was drunk until he kept humming and then stopping and for the first time he was out of tune. But, other than that he seemed normal albeit relaxed. His eyes were heavily lidded making him look sleepy although his voice was strong and clear.
"You like to watch me." Xander said with his chin propped into his hand. He was leaning against the table, his other hand swirling a glass of wine.
I took that moment to down a glass, licking my lips afterwards. "I don't."
Xander put his glass down. "I don't care if we sleep in the same bed, it's big enough for the both of us."He was the one watching me now, a hint of green peeking through beneath his lashes. "I can keep my hands to myself." He said.
"Sometimes, I want to kiss you." I said. Maybe, I was a bit wine drunk as well. The world's edges didn't seem so harsh like this. It would just be one night. I could pretend later that this didn't mean anything but right now I just wanted to hold him, or maybe even be held.
Xander smiled and I had to smile back. "Oh, I know you do, Achilles."
He got up and turned on the bedside lamp, before turning off the lights and climbing into the bed. The room was bathed in a warm low light that cast dark plains over Xander's face.
I got up to sit on the edge of the bed, and took off my shirt and sweats. I would sweat straight through my clothes if I wore them to sleep. That's definitely the reason I took them off.
My heart was hammering in my chest as I went under the sheets, more aware of Xander then I'd been of anyone else in my life. Whatever this thing was between us, I knew I couldn't resist it much longer. It had been building since we met. Almost like a forest in hot and dry weather. Just one spark would set everything aflame.
Under the covers I reached for his hand and he let me intertwine my fingers with his. "When this is all overâ" I whispered. "We canâ"
Xander laughed, deep and low. "When this is over you'll probably lose my number. You'll be embarrassed and just pretend this didn't happen." He sounded sad, but he squeezed my hand. I moved my foot to touch the inside of his ankle, tangling my foot with his. I wanted to be closer.
He was still talking when I moved over, looking for him in the dark. I let go of his hand to touch his face, running my thumb across his lips. Those gorgeous lips.
"Achilles." He said, lips moving under my fingers. His breath was hot against my hand. I cupped his chin, moving his head to face mine.
And then I was facing him, the only thing separating us were a few bated breathes. I was slow, giving him time to move, or to push me away. But he didn't. So I kissed him.
#
Oof idk man, making your first move on somebody when you're drunk does not seem like the way to go.