[Fic] Butterfly Venom - 01
Chap I: Almost Paradise (It Looks a Lot Like Hell)
October 1793
He squeezes his eyes shut, the pain is too much to bear and he can’t do a damn thing about it. He just wishes he could reach home sooner. But why so optimistic, the night’s already fallen over the town and there’s no one around to even try and ask for help. October’s cold wind isn’t any less forgiving, either.
He clutches his stomach with strong fists and leans on an old near wall to seek comfort in the fetal position, maybe this way the pain will subdue. His breath comes uneven, labored, each second passing even harder it seems. He feels his end near and he only regrets he won’t be able to die at home, his sister’s hands in his and not alone. But his illness is unforgiving (and unknown for that matter), no one ever surviving long after getting it down. It feels like he’s being punished for some unknown reason.
Two years ago he was a happy guy with a beautiful wife by his side and a bundle of life coming on its way to complete their family. His sister, his only blood related person left alive, felt as joyful as they were and everything looked pretty much like a fairytale. Perfect wasn’t an enough word to describe it.
Two years ago he had no worry in the world - up until hell decided it was time to take over and mess a little with their destiny. His wife died giving birth to a beautiful girl who didn’t live longer than two hours and he got sick while drinking his pain away. He only understood that he shouldn’t give up on his life yet when he saw his sister suffering because of him. It had taken him more time and strength than he had ever imagined it would to get back on his feet. Yet now, it all seems fruitless because he won’t even be able to say goodbye to her, to thank her for taking good care of his poor soul when he needed the most. He’ll die on this empty street, like a dirty, homeless rat that has no future whatsoever. Maybe they won’t even find his body to burry him, starved animals feeding themselves of it.
Regrets bubble up inside him - he wants to scream, to course his fate - he wants to live damn it! Where’s God when he calls for Him? He’s not yet ready to leave this world, he’s not ready to give in to the claws of death that stretch out to get him. But darkness slowly marks its territory and...
It’ll all be over soon.
Or maybe not.
It’s sudden and painful and all too surreal but it’s different from what he thought death should feel like. He feels the blood being sucked out of his system at an unearthly speed, his legs feel numb and he starts to get dizzy.
There’s this thing that keeps him from falling, hands clasping his shoulders, steadying him on his feet and it should be warm, he thinks, because ‘hands are usually warm aren’t they?’ yet they feel so icy, so alien to touch.
Goosebumps travel through his weakening body, his eyelids get heavy and someone’s shouting out there - he supposes, he’s not sure, his eyes won’t open to verify his theory. When darkness kicks in completely, he feels like floating, light as a feather, free as a spirit (he’s not even sure if spirits really exist, but hey, the man is dying, cut him some slack, would ya’?).
It’s still night when he wakes up next, or is it that the curtains are down and the room is out of light? He has his doubts, but if there’s one thing he’s sure about, is that he’s back home, in his own bed. He knows it for a fact, simply because it smells like home. His hand reaches out to his side to find soft bangs of hair and he’s never been happier to hear the soft breathing of his sister.
If this isn’t Heaven then he’s surely still alive (Hell couldn’t be this beautiful).
He’ll have God to thank, later, when he’ll be on his feet again, he thinks. His fingers comb his sister’s soft hair, while tears burn the insides of his eyes. She twitches and wakes up.
“Jaejoong-ah!”
It’s soft, it’s sweet and it’s all kinds of alluring - his name on her lips - almost like a secret whispered at the brink of the night between lovers and sinners. Her arms embrace his skinny frame and the young man shivers. The rhythm of her heart reaches his ears. She smells like honey and spice, all combined and he’s suddenly so hungry. The vein on her neck pops up deliciously so, as if calling for him, urging him to take just one bite. But he jerks away from her, frightened and confused, and he’s too drained to think anymore.
He summons sleep to come because it seems the only way to deal with the unknown feelings that run up his spine and hopes he’ll wake up with a clearer mind and a peaceful heart.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
It’s three days later that he gathers enough consciousness for his heavy eyelids to fully lift. He’s still in his own room and, this time, the curtains are wide open for the sun to flood the small chamber in all its glory.
His eyes can’t stand the light, his skin can’t bear the heat and he hides under the blanket calling his sister to put it all out.
He later finds out he’s been unconscious for more than two months and ‘this must be a Christmas miracle’ because it’s already December and the year nears to its end. He discovers that the shouting, on that day, wasn’t only his ill mind playing tricks on him. It was indeed someone who shouted because some ‘giant animal’, they said, was devouring him.
Blessed be that man.
Strange thing is, besides the two ugly spots on his neck, he’s left with no scar whatsoever. If not for the massive blood lose people wouldn’t even believe he was attacked.
The doctor checking on him tells him that he’ll recover right away, but looks at him like he’s grown seven heads when asked about the development of the old illness. He’s told that there’s not trace of ever being ill and ‘maybe you should see another kind of doctor?’
The confusion grows bigger as days go by, because Jaejoong feels that there’s still something utterly wrong with his body, but he’s no specialist, he has no knowledge of sorts, so what’s there else to do but wait?
Was waiting ever a good strategy?
On the third week of the New Year, he collapses into the cold snow, skin burning and hunger (or is it thirst?) squeezing the daylights out of him. His sister feeds him, tends him, worries at his side, but the hunger stays, gets stronger and the food loses its taste. By the forth week, he can’t stand light, heat, nor his sister’s presence - at all. He’s doomed - he knows it - so he starts questioning the real events of the night of the attack, thinking it might give him a clue about the current situation. Nightmares reveal him what he’s looking for and panic strikes him like a sharp knife - he wasn’t attacked by an animal. No, because that surely had a human face.
Flesh and blood, but not quite human.
Realization sinks in and he’s more afraid than ever (if this goes on any longer he’s gonna hurt his sister).
Vampires. He has heard the word before, when his late grandmother used to tell him frightening stories to keep him from going out at night. He remembers complaining about the scary tales he never believed of being true, thinking the old woman was just trying to keep him from wandering the streets for her own peace of mind. Now, he’s not so sure it was all a lie - not when the fever is still high and nothing seems to fill his growling stomach anymore.
It’s late in the evening when he decides to leave home for good, his sister fast asleep from exhaustion (he’s been such a burden for her these past months) and the big clock on the wall, the only sound in the room. He considers writing a note, explaining his reasons - how do you explain that? - then again, she’ll be better off not knowing what cruel fate her older brother has been ‘bestowed’ with.
~*~
It’s like this that Jaejoong finds himself traveling around the world, searching throughout the night (for what, he’s not sure himself) and trying to survive.
The first time he tastes human blood it feels like he’s on drugs. The ecstasy of the sweet metallic liquid drives him nuts, makes him lose his mind and lifts him up to Heaven (just for the next moment to throw him, head first, back to hell earth). He almost gets caught in the act but he’s lucky enough to get a bit of power in his bones to move faster than the uninvited guest and it takes him only two seconds to make himself scarce and live another day or night to enjoy it.
When it comes to killing people for his own survival, he’s more like a scared cat than a guilty predator. He takes lives like changing seasons - slow, charming and always in the safety of a dark shadow. Even if he’s new to this life, he embraces it like destiny and doesn’t think about regrets, ‘what if’s or ‘what should have been’s. They’d be futile anyways, and he understands he can’t turn back time with the power of his mind. He’s matured like that.
Decades pass by (one, two, tree… he’s lost count) and he sees himself getting tired of what he’s become. Hunting has lost its novelty, people changed yet stayed the same and revolutions bloodied countries all around the globe.
He feels alone.
Pierre is a nice surprise for a change. They start off on the wrong foot though, but hungry vampires with little choices of feeding couldn’t get it any better. The victim watches them, paralyzed, unable to understand that this may somehow be a chance for her to run, while they cordially exchange impressions and amiabilities about the weather outside, the last corner of twilight they’ve found or ‘hey, your fangs are longer than mine, and they cut deeper too, where did you get them?’
It’s stupid, really, because, instead of barring their fangs to one-another, fight their heads off like crazy dogs over a bone and consuming their last amount of energy (not that Jaejoong had any more left, of course), they could have easily agreed on sharing the poor girl that actually waited for them to decide who’s manlier, stronger between them, while trembling like a leaf, attached to that dirty, ugly wall in that dark back alley, somewhere on the outskirts of a French city (he doesn’t really know which one, it’s not like he checked any map before arriving here). But, of course, they’re guys, they don’t like sharing (although sharing they do, after the match when they decide fighting is for idiots pun intended and half is better than nothing).
Thank God any divinity is out there that the chick is blonde enough to just stay there and wait to be devoured. Jaejoong will reflect later on and come to the conclusion that, by the end of the ‘show’, she had gotten over her fear and become rather aroused by the whole display, that’s why she didn’t leave. Girls can be scary like that.
So, when the meal is over, body discharged somewhere out of sight and fresh blood running through their veins, they take their sweet time getting to know each other (you know? like two drunk strangers in a bar) and sharing knowledge of vampire life - it’s mostly Pierre because, yeah, Jaejoong is only a novice with few decades on his shoulders and loneliness attached like second skin.
As it turns out, Pierre is hundreds older, not even sure how many though (‘Somewhere between seven hundred sixty nine and eight hundred and twenty, I kinda lost count after the first four hundreds, ya’ know?’). His Korean is sort of polished, but not quite so, ‘cause there are times when Jaejoong finds it difficult to understand the man vampire.
“That’s because you weren’t there when the language was formed, but I was.”
“You realize that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, right?”
“Pft, kids these days, they know no respect for their elders.”
“I’m actually older than you if you consider only the human years.”
“Good choice of words: ‘if’ and ‘only’. You’re just jealous that I was younger and handsomer when my creator found me.”
“Hmm, yeah, sure.”
Well they simply click like that and love to tease each other. They have serious talks too. They travel and contemplate the world, read books and tell stories, create some even for themselves. They muster languages like sailors ride the waves, sing whispers of the night and love becomes an art for them.
Jaejoong learns to appreciate life differently.
It still feels lonesome at times and Pierre watches him with a mixture of sympathy and pity, lets him wander the skies alone and, when he retreats to a corner of the poorly lit room, tightly curled up in a ball, knees strangled by pale arms, head barely visible and the image of his sister behind closed lids, the old vampire sits across from him and starts talking. He speaks of kingdoms, kings and queens, immortals and rules and anarchies and times that still won’t change. It all sounds like a fairytale, a terrifying one and Jaejoong has to wonder what made Pierre to tell him this (now), to describe fights and bloody battles, undead dying and power rendering their species starved for more and more and more…
He speaks of mates and innocent love and cruelties and Jaejoong's mind can’t take it anymore. He’s raged and hurt, though he has no apparent reason and he’s confused.
“You’re weak!” Pierre concludes one day. “Not only with your body, but with your soul too, you are weak. You’re not strong enough to survive long in this world.”
Jaejoong cuts ties with him a month later, disappearing with the twilight, leaving his place to find his own. He goes back to Korea, but it takes him another three months to summon the courage to search his sister and when he does, he almost dies of heart break. For him, time had no meaning while curling in the whisper of the dusk, avoiding the footprints of the sunrise, but, for his sister, it meant everything - it meant her life.
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