only human;

He could tell that the human didn’t even believe the words he was saying. They were mixed with confusion, anger, and disbelief. Nixon would have felt guilt if he was any other person, but he’d lost most of his emotions long ago. He’d never been kind, nor empathetic, and watching August struggle with his life was nothing more but amusing. The human was a way to pass the time, but now Nixon was finished dealing with him. He would never allow August to truly get away – to tell his shapeshifter sibling that he was being attacked by a vampire. No, things had already gone far enough. 

“Do you love someone?” He asked finally, the question seemingly far off from what they had originally been talking about. In fact, it seemed almost cruel to make August think of the people that would miss him most. “Is anyone going to miss you when you die?” Nixon could hear August’s heart pounding against his rib cage. The rapid beating giving away the man’s fear. But again, Nixon had never been kind. He had been jaded for over a century, now. The world was cruel, and he chose to be crueler. 

It had been weeks, months since this had all begun. But it was an odd feeling, as if it were some distant memory, some fleeting moment that August couldn’t quite grasp. Each time that Nixon left him bleeding in an alley way, the memories of what had happened went with him. It was for this reason, that his mind couldn’t quite formulate how he should be feeling. Confusion, angry, fear; the emotions flickered through him, shifting so quickly that he was sure he’d get whiplash from it all. And as that happened, his hands didn’t cease trying to remove Nixon’s from him. It didn’t matter though, as he should have known, given the amount of movies he’d watched. And in all of them, there was one continuous theme: vampires had some inhuman goddamn strength.

It was the question, however, that suddenly ceased his movements. Do you love someone? There seemed to be such a mundane quality about it. As if it were meant to be asked of someone over a drink, and not in some dark alley in the middle of the night. Eyes narrowed on the vampire’s face, hoping to see through and understand what this meant. August wouldn’t have to wait long, as the second question rolled off the other’s tongue. When you die. The words were spoken so blatantly, as if Nixon asked this of everyone he crossed paths with. But the strange thing about it...August had considered the question more times than he could likely count.

Normally, Nixon would have killed his victim early on. Once they were more or less useless, he liked to make them disappear. He’d drain most of their blood, to the point where he knew they were on the verge of passing out, and send them off to die. They’d think they were having a heart attack, or perhaps couldn’t breathe, and they’d suffocate. It covered up his tracks most of the time. For now, however, August had remained alive. But his use had slowly dwindled, and Nixon was never one to leave behind a messy trail. 

“August,” He was standing behind the human, waiting until the other turned around to face him. The vampire watched as recognition filled the man’s gaze, and he rose an eyebrow, “Tell me – did you confront your brother? How did it feel knowing you had this entire world around you…and you were the fool.” Nixon curled his fingers into August’s shirt, moving the human back against the alley wall, “Are you afraid?”

August. It was that simple, his name leaving like a breath from the other man’s tongue. And just like that, memories slammed back into his mind, quite nearly knocking the breath right out of him. Immediately, his body tensed for what was to come. He knew what it would be, as it always was when he was in the presence of this man --- no, this vampire. The bite marks on his neck, the loss of blood, the missing memories; it was all stripped right from a bad horror movie. And August was the moronic blonde that got themselves stuck in the worst situations.

It was nearing midnight, and August couldn’t reasonably see why he was out wandering the streets. His shift had ended a couple of hours ago, and while he’d stopped in at a local pub for a drink, he hadn’t pressed himself to return home yet. So with his hands slipped into the pockets of his not quite necessary jacket, he slipped from one street to the next, with no real destination in mind.

Instead, it was on Lia. And their relationship, if that’s what one could rightfully call it. He wasn’t sure where they stood, especially not after their recent tryst. Would that be it for them now? Or was there still that small chance of it becoming something more? He’d screwed up, but their relationship had been in turmoil for some time towards the end. Maybe that’s all they would be. A drunken mistake to bring closure to what neither of them could admit was over. But what if ---

Diana made easy and measured strides from work, it was walking distance from city hall to the Vidalis’ estate, her families’ ancestral home had been in their name for generations, and while some chose to live outside of its walls, Diana knew it would always be home. The witch walked with certainty, quick footsteps that followed in equal succession, they slowed when she felt the presence of death first - followed quickly by muffled groans of agony. Diana didn’t spare a second thought before she broke into a sprint and rounded the corner of the nearest alley, she saw a man pressed against the wall, vaguely familiar she could only really see shapes in the darkness. The woman knew that going toe to toe against a vampire in a fair fight was a death sentence, compulsion was only one of her worries when measured against the predators speed, strength, and enhanced senses. 

In a single flash of brilliant steel, the vampire’s head rolled across the ground and its frame crumpled in front of August. The blade quivered as her arms shook from the effort, like steel striking solid stone, Diana let out a sigh of relief, her eyes turned to the man whose neck look liked it’d been ravaged by some fledgling who didn’t know how to find a vein. Diana noticed the injury before she realized that she recognized him, he was a firefighter, his brother was the Chief of Police. They’d spoken, however briefly, recently, at Corinth Bay’s Pride festival. She knew him as a good man. “August.” Diana breathed, the blade disappearing into her bag as the witch stepped in to look at the wound, “That looks bad.”

How did he continue to end up in these predicaments? Of course, August couldn’t rightfully remember the predicaments, given that each time Nixon left him bleeding in an alleyway, his memories went with the vampire. He could only recall winding up in a hospital, another bandage pressed against his neck, with no clue as to how it came to be. But this time, with his back pressed roughly against the side of a building and teeth pressed firmly into his neck, he would recall each moment that transpired. What the hell it was exactly, however, August didn’t precisely know. The mere concept of vampires didn’t immediately dawn on him, because why would it? Vampires only existed in fictional tales, either written in a book or displayed on a screen. They didn’t exist in real life.

Which meant that this man, who seemed to be far stronger than August could rightfully understand, was simply that: a man. Either with a few screws loose in his head, or who had partook in something illicit. Whatever it was, August was finding himself at his mercy, and the newfound sluggishness in his limbs signified that he was loosing blood, and fast. As it were, the idea of calling out seemed lost on the man, who found himself unable to do much other than grip the shirt of the body pressed against him. Even his mind was turning to acceptance, realizing that he was going to bleed out in this alleyway, by a man who was crazy enough to bite his goddamn neck.

And then he saw the flash of a light, catching on something metallic. The pressure on his neck was alleviated, the body that had once held him against the building falling away before him. The loss of blood spurred on confusion, for August couldn’t have possibly seen this woman behead the man right in front of him. But there was the body, and some distance away lay the head, separate. Surely this all had to be some kind of nightmare, and perhaps he’d wake up from it shortly. Yet the pain in his neck radiated something fierce, and despite his plea for it to be, August knew this wasn’t some dream. But then --- what the hell was it?

The stoic look that met his brother beyond the edge of the coffee he’d brought him was steeled. Keep getting myself into what — as if the slow stem of issues regarding his brothers well-being wasn’t already enough reason to worry without being consumed with the possibility that he might fall into harms way. Be it within the career he’d chosen or something more sinister. The noted loss of memory - and the information given to him by hospital staff was more than enough to keep him on edge. “You know what,” his clipped tone a little more relentless as shifted to lean a little heavier on the counter. “What the hell else am I meant to do, August?” The gentle intention of his visit cast to the wind easily enough with his brothers impaired irritation. “You think I’m not being told what’s going on with you? You end up in the hospital with blood and memory loss and you think nobody is going to bother to tell me? Add to that, it’s not the first time..” He sighed heavily, “What’s going on with you? And don’t bullshit me.”

Nixon gave August another once over, debating on what he wanted to let the human remember. “A vampire, obviously. I thought the fangs would give it away. I left my Lestat wig at home.” He tightened his grip a little on August’s neck, “Why what? Why you? Because, you were the unlucky one I found when I was having…a moment, I guess. Normally I don’t bother keeping anyone alive, but I figured it’d be a shame if the police chief’s brother went missing. Are you even related? With him being a shifter and you being…so human.” He wanted to see the other’s reaction, even if he would forget it all in a few minutes.

A vampire. The mere mention of it would have had him laughing, if the reminder of what had happened last time didn’t constantly flash to the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t making sense, any of it. One moment, he was leaving work with the intention of grabbing a drink on the way. The next, his mind was drugging up memories that had somehow been suppressed of what this man had done to him. “That’s not ---,” possible? His mind didn’t want to consider it, seeing as how it couldn’t be possible. Vampires didn’t exist, not outside fictional stories, that is. He wasn’t given much time to think on it, however, as fingers pressed more firmly into the sides of his neck. Immediately, his hand reached up, but even as his fingers curled around Nixon’s wrist, he couldn’t even force himself to fight back. What the hell was happening to him? Consideration on what was happening to him was momentarily pushed aside as words invaded his thoughts, pushing through the haze of confusion. “My --- brother?” It wasn’t the word that confused him, but instead the one that he hadn’t honestly heard in his life: shifter. It was this word, combined with the acknowledgement of August being --- human, that pressed questions into his head. “Him being a --- what does that mean?” 

There was no point in denying it, truly. Asher had an awful habit - though he never hovered, he made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t stop checking in on his younger brother. Force of nature, maybe, but honestly seeing August in good spirits always eased him far more than he expected it to. When he’d heard about another accident, it’d perplexed him to no end. Beyond his condition, it wasn’t like his brother to wind up in the hospital twice in as many months, especially when he had it on good authority - his brother’s captain, that August hadn’t even been out on a job at the time. “Figured it’d be better than that shit you keep around here.” He noted, offhandedly and without any mind to whatever retort August might give him. “And I do have to come check in on you, it’s my job - always has been, I figured you’d be used to it by now.. Or is that why you keep getting yourself into shit like this? You miss me?”

It was worth it – to see the recognition with a mild mix of fear and anger appear in August’s eyes. He stood by the fact that the guy was handsome, and that was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. Nixon huffed out a breath, “Ask the real questions – that way you can remember them for like at least a few minutes. Like ‘what are you’? Or…’why are you so hot?’ Don’t worry, I’ll let you remember that one.” He moved forward, his fingers curling around August’s throat, “When I don’t want to kill people, I just use you.”

“You know, you don’t always have to come check up on me, right?” Though, August knew why his brother was here. Another hospital visit, with lack of sufficient memories to let the doctor know exactly what had happened to him. But his job was dangerous, everyone knew that --- August knew that, and he still went out every day despite it. He didn’t think that his heart put him in slightly more danger than the rest of his crew. “But the coffee is appreciated.”

It felt almost unnatural, the laugh that slipped through her lips. Barely audible yet she felt it, through every nerve ending her body held. It warmed once cold fingertips and burnt through her chest in ways that felt like they were one old, forgotten memories. “You were never that great at holding your drinks, I don’t know why I thought you’d be any better at it now.” Muttered just as quietly as she shifted further into him, seeking the warmth of his form and the familiarity of the crook of his neck. A question of how long it might revert back to the safe place this had always been for them never sought to push beyond the thoughts she created a blockade with; the soft draw of his fingers through her hair and the distinct smell that clung to his skin like satin itself, a moment that she could cling to for as long as he might let her despite the growing prospect of the ache they both shared yet refused to allow to taint anything now.

“For the first time since..” Since you left, “the first time in a really long time, I did.” It was the cold bed, and colder heart, the ache of her bones as her shifting became so much more frequent in the constant turn of her emotions - the nightmares that plagued her in lieu of the recent terrors that plagued her awake or not. The vibrant memory of a child crying and feeling it as roughly as she had, caused her fingers to curl more tightly around him. Yet still - better that she suffer in ways August would never have to. This wasn’t something she was used to, falling back to the safety of comfort and almost a routine. It simply wasn’t something she knew, or tolerated. Once things were broken, in Lia’s mind, they held no place in an already shattered reality, but even she knew, before this moment, that no matter how irrevocably tainted things became, she could fall back to him, no questions asked.  The calm that settled in her bones with August around was monumental, and not unlike the feeling that had washed over her the night she’d slammed back the doors of his hospital room thinking it was empty in the midst of losing her mind on the tail end of an argument years before hand. It went hand in hand with loving him, one unable to exist without the other. Hues didn’t flutter open for a passing moment once their lips parted - Lia wondering, how much longer they could fool themselves and knowing once he spoke again, and offered the decisive ignorance for now, that it was as fleeting as everything else had ever been. Even still, she’d cling to it. “For as long as I want? That is a dangerous sentiment, August Gaines. Either you’ve forgotten exactly how long I can keep you here, or you’re fully prepared to miss at least your next two shifts at work..”

It was moments like this that made him regret so many decisions in his life. From a young age, he had vowed to never have those regrets, to live his life always on the edge. When the diagnosis came, when his dreams of ever playing professional baseball were snatched from him, August had fallen into a slump. He’d curled in on himself, brushed off the prospect of ever going to college, and proceeded to feel sorry for himself. So when he’d finally pulled himself out of it, forced himself to return to school, he vowed then and there to never let himself get back to that moment. He vowed to live his life to the extremes, and never once regret a single decision that he made.

But then he’d met Lia, when she stormed into his hospital room with curses flying off her tongue. When movies and books had spoken about love at first sight, August had always written them off as a childish fantasy. Yet that day in the hospital, he started to believe. “God, I forgot how mean you could be.” He feigned a look of hurt, eyes squeezed shut with a frown gracing the edges of his lips. The statement was far from the truth, for no matter what Lia might say to him in the heat of the moment, he knew where it always stemmed from. “I could easily drink you under the table, don’t even start.” Likewise, that statement was far from the truth, as well. August didn’t know how she did it, or when he’d become such a lightweight, but the petite woman could put him to shame at any drinking game. And they both knew it.

Distinct words, however, cut short the playful banter that dripped from his tongue. Since he left. She didn’t need to voice the words, for August had a knack for picking up on what she refused to say. But what did he say now? Apologize again for being so stupid? Say that he wasn’t going to leave, ever again? While it was true, August didn’t know whether it was an appropriate time to say it or not. He could apologize until he was blue in the face, express that he planned to remain within Corinth Bay until his dying days, but what good would that do? There was still so much that hung between the pair of them, so many things still left unsaid.

Nixon had started being far more bold with the human that was so aloof. Hell, the guy was lucky he was still alive after the whole festival fiasco. How many times had they spoken now? Nixon had stopped counting, but the vampire never got tired of having the same conversation over and over again. If he had, well, August would be dead. “I was looking for you, actually. You saved my yia yia’s kitten out of a tree the other day. August, right?” he moved closer, watching as the compulsion reminder set in, “You and I have somewhere to be.”

The man looked familiar in the way that many others did. From those that he passed on the street to the bystanders who gathered round after they were called to a scene. Even as the other started to mention a kitten, he couldn’t quite find the memory that was attached to it. That is --- until his name was spoken. The memories came hurtling back in as if he had been stuck by a semi truck. “You,” even as he was reminded of who the man was, August found himself once again unable to do anything about it. What was the hell kept happening to him? “I’m not going anywhere with you. Seriously, man, what the fuck do you keep doing to me?”