#assare

Jacob was getting tired. His head hurt and he felt nauseous. Most of all though, he felt confused, betrayed and sad. He flinched when he gently poked his eye, feeling it already swollen adding to the rest of the bruises on his face that had remained even after drinking their blood.

Plenty of frustrating conversations had made Jacob even more exhausted than he had been once he woke up. His body ached, Emerson's blood only took him from the brink of death, and he still could feel bones in his chest move in a way they shouldn't. But one conversation hadn't happened yet. With a person, he had hoped would have been sitting by his side when he finally woke up. On shaky legs and with many breaks in between, Jacob slowly made his way through the mansion to where he knew Assare would probably be lounging around right now. He couldn't shake the feeling, that Nestor had been right. Assare had never truly cared about him. His breathing was reduced to little gasps by the time he made it to the door, leaning against the wall. Jacob raised a trembling hand to the wood and knocked.