#;simon threads

There's a long pause between what Teague says and when Simon responds.

Simon only stares at the man, his pale, gaunt features twisted in confusion and disbelief. There was a man? Unless he was a doctor, Simon didn't see how that would help. He'd felt awful for weeks now. Maybe even months. There was something seriously, seriously wrong with him.

Simon fidgets with the journal in his hand. His brother's. He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It doesn't even come close.

Simon looks down at his feet. He's holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands, trying not to look too downtrodden. He's dressed nicely, in a yellow polo shirt and black and gray striped dress pants. He wanted tonight to be perfect. But... It wasn't. It really wasn't. He brushes some of his curls behind his ears and shrugs.

Music plays softly from his phone. Nothing really of any value, just a random track on his spotify liked songs. Just something to fill the... Well, the lack of silence for him, now.

It isn't Francis's fault that Simon can hear his heart beating. That he can practically feel his blood running through his veins, even when sitting nearly a foot apart on the couch.

Curled into a ball against the arm of said couch, Simon Valentino looks a wreck. He's much too pale- no color at all on his normally rosy cheeks, he's lost a considerable amount of weight... But more than that, he seems off. Antsy for one, yes, he can't quit fidgeting with his hands or with the choker around his neck. His brows are furrowed and have been since Francis came in. He won't look at his friend, either.

Simon has always struggled with eye contact, but this is a whole new level. The only place he seems to look are one spot. The spot where Francis's neck meets his shoulder, followed by his gaze quickly jerking away. But, in the end, his soft brown eyes always find their way back to that same, special spot.

There is a certain desperation that Simon feels. It dwells both in his hunger and his humanity. How, how does one hang onto their humanity if they were to feed on blood? This question had plagued the young vampire's mind since he'd been turned, two months ago. He had not fed, not once in that time frame. An almost unheard of act for a newly turned vampire to do. Two months, two months. He'd stopped going out for the most part, he'd stopped answering calls, he'd stopped responding to texts. He couldn't stand to. He couldn't stand the bloodlust.

But hunger. Hunger is a tricky thing. It worms its way out of the belly and settles itself in the chest. Heavy and unrelenting, before continuing up to sit in the mind. To play tricks, to whisper rationales, to make otherwise unsavory decisions. And Simon was beyond hungry.

Simon was starving.

His eyes have fallen once again on the special spot. And it's only then that he realizes Francis has not only been talking, but was now looking on him to respond. Simon hadn't heard a word he'd said, frankly, much too focused on that spot. Tearing his eyes away, he looks up, catching blue eyes with brown for only a moment before darting back down to the spot.

It had been two months. Two months since Simon was turned. And not once had he fed. It genuinely felt like he was going insane. He couldn't go to his classes, and he was starting to fail all of them. But each time he tried to go, all he could focus on was the heartbeats of everyone around him. The smell of so much blood.

No, no, he couldn't go to classes. He barely left his dorm, and he hadn't called home in weeks.

The only time he dared go out was at night, when there were less people around. But even then, he was barely in control of himself. Like tonight.

Tonight, he'd been following someone for a long time. He wasn't being particularly subtle about it either, he wasn't making a point to stay hidden. He was just following this person without thinking at all.

Simon's mind felt cloudy and confused. Overwhelmed with the thirst for blood. He was beyond desperate at this point. When they're finally somewhere with no one else around, Simon strikes.

He darts forward, pushing Parker against a wall and leaning his full body weight against him, staring at him with a strange, clouded expression. For a moment, he does nothing but stare, fighting inwardly with himself. He doesn't want to do this!

And yet.

Almost in a stupor, Simon wandered silently through the night. Whether or not he realized it, he was following someone. Just a random human, but one who had picked a scab as they walked which now bled freely.

Simon would deny it. He would deny it for as long as he could. He wasn't bloodthirsty. He wasn't! He was just! He could-- he could control himself!

But being a newly turned vampire was hard. Even harder, being a newly turned vampire who hadn't ever fed in the two months since he was turned. It was something of a nightmare, really, the cravings, the weakness he felt in general. The way his head spun every time he got too close to someone. He could smell their blood, feel their heartbeat...

Simon wasn't sure what called him to this room. It was just.... Something about it had been all but calling to him in a way he couldn't explain. He stood there, awkwardly staring, for far too long. Unsure how to process what he was seeing... Or why such a gruesome sight was making him hungrier and hungrier with each passing second.

Finally, he looks up at Anthony, utterly confused by what he's saying. "blood... what?" Is all he can really think to ask, and then he shakes his head to try and clear it. His hunger remains. He's starting to feel just a little agitated but tries to ignore that.