[FIC] - Shaped - Tora/Hiroto - PG-13 - Chap. 3
Title: Shaped
Chapter: 3/?
Author: unna_rainchaser
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU
Pairings: Tora/Hiroto
Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended.
Comments: A vampire's thoughts.
Prologue → 01 → 02 → 03
Rainchaser's Archive
________________________________________
As Tora entered his apartment he made sure to lock it safely before he toed off his shoes and, without bothering to turn on the lights, went into his living room to drop his jacket on an armchair. For a moment he just stood there, trying to catch his own train of thoughts.
He glanced at his bedroom door with a pained expression. His life was so twisted now. He ruffled his own hair, shook his head and walked into his bathroom, switching on the light. He stared blankly down onto the tiles. This was where he slept these days since the bathroom was the only room without a window. During the day he'd curl up in the futon he only every pulled out for guests, lying on the cold floor. He didn't even feel the cold as much as he used to, which worried him sick the first few days.
He'd get his futon from the bedroom later, first he needed to get out of these clothes. Tora unbuckled his belt with one hand while fishing his mobile phone out of a pocket with the other. He looked at it, frowning. He hadn't called anyone of his family. None of his friends, either. What he tried, so many times that he lost count, was call that guy who had turned him into what he was now. He never picked up. It could have been a fake number in the first place. Maybe he was running from his responsibility. Why did he leave him? How could he do this to him and just leave? He forsook him! But why? Why?
Tora felt like throwing his phone down the twelve stories from his small balcony. Instead he tossed it into an open cupboard, knocking over shower gel bottles.
Peeling out of his clothes and throwing them onto the closed hamper he kept swallowing lumps. He trotted back through his living room, passing generous sized windows and pushed the door to his bedroom open. He missed his soft bed. Maybe he should move into another place with a bigger room without a window so that he could sleep in a real bedroom again. But how to pay for moving? He couldn't go back to his job again. He couldn't work as a bank's clerk at night, could he? How was he supposed to pay his rent the next months?
He needed answers. He needed to know how to handle this. Especially this hunger for blood he felt.
He pulled on his pajama pants and shouldered the futon to set it up in the bathroom. At least he didn't have to worry about buying food and water. The heat bill wasn't a threat, either. All he was buying lately was cigarettes. He couldn't die of lung cancer anymore. That was the only bright side he'd discovered so far.
He rolled out his futon and scratched his chest absentmindedly.
He knew that he had to feed. He knew, as vampire, it was expected that he'd hunt down a young woman and take what he wanted. People expected him to kill, be ruthless, a creature of darkness.
And he felt it. He felt the (he had little doubts but lacked a better word) adrenalin rush through his system at the mere though of ramming his fangs into warm skin and drinkdrinkdrink until he was drenched in blood with a limp body dropping from his arms onto the dirty ground of a back alley.
He wanted it. Badly.
How would it feel to drink blood? How would it be to have the warm, red liquid flowing down his throat and pooling in his stomach? To have warmth back on the inside just for a few minutes?
What did it taste like?
Yes, he wanted it.
But at the time he was disgusted with himself.
He hated himself for what he was now and didn't even know for sure what exactly it was.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, opened his mouth and extended his fangs. It hurt. It hurt every time he did it. He brushed his teeth and fangs, adapting his routinized movements to the elongated canines. He still didn't know how to use them right. Was he supposed to break an artery or vein? Maybe a muscle would do, too? Just something with good blood flow? Now that he thought of it he wondered if sucking blood from a muscle would leave horrible bruises. He should take lessons in anatomy. Where, how deep, how was he supposed to bite?
He rinsed his mouth and cleaned his face from all make-up. He always liked being pale, it had a certain style, but now he was dead pale. The skin around his eyes just looked off. His lips were purple. At least he didn't have to worry about plucking his brows anymore. He laughed bitterly at that and dried his face with a clean, white towel.
He didn't know what to do.
He didn't fucking know.
It was an agonizing frustration burning in his chest. He thought that, maybe, this very feeling was the reason why so many vampires were as violent as they were. They didn't know how to handle their anger anymore. They were too desperate, enough to not care anymore.
Tora did.
Tora tried.
But then, he couldn't any longer and tried to follow tactics fiction taught him: go into a bar, seduce someone, drink their blood and leave. Do it fast. Don't leave a name.
As he walked the streets, smoking as substitute for breathing, he saw the sign of that bar. Midnight Blue. He had rolled his eyes at himself for picking that place. But the name was appropriate to what he was now, wasn't it? It felt like the right place to be.
And then, he had sat there, waiting for someone to be attracted, to approach him. He was waiting for an easy prey.
He switched off the light and lay down, covering his cold body with the thick blanket that had no more use than a meek comfort.
And then, there was Hiroto.
He was everything he would have never expected and yet wanted oh so badly.
________________________________________
← Previous.
→ Next.
________________________________________
Written in psychology class. Unna is a multi-tasking student.
Beta'ed by the one and only tingedwords. That's the least she can do for forcing me to write this.
Chapter: 3/?
Author: unna_rainchaser
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU
Pairings: Tora/Hiroto
Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended.
Comments: A vampire's thoughts.
Prologue → 01 → 02 → 03
Rainchaser's Archive
________________________________________
As Tora entered his apartment he made sure to lock it safely before he toed off his shoes and, without bothering to turn on the lights, went into his living room to drop his jacket on an armchair. For a moment he just stood there, trying to catch his own train of thoughts.
He glanced at his bedroom door with a pained expression. His life was so twisted now. He ruffled his own hair, shook his head and walked into his bathroom, switching on the light. He stared blankly down onto the tiles. This was where he slept these days since the bathroom was the only room without a window. During the day he'd curl up in the futon he only every pulled out for guests, lying on the cold floor. He didn't even feel the cold as much as he used to, which worried him sick the first few days.
He'd get his futon from the bedroom later, first he needed to get out of these clothes. Tora unbuckled his belt with one hand while fishing his mobile phone out of a pocket with the other. He looked at it, frowning. He hadn't called anyone of his family. None of his friends, either. What he tried, so many times that he lost count, was call that guy who had turned him into what he was now. He never picked up. It could have been a fake number in the first place. Maybe he was running from his responsibility. Why did he leave him? How could he do this to him and just leave? He forsook him! But why? Why?
Tora felt like throwing his phone down the twelve stories from his small balcony. Instead he tossed it into an open cupboard, knocking over shower gel bottles.
Peeling out of his clothes and throwing them onto the closed hamper he kept swallowing lumps. He trotted back through his living room, passing generous sized windows and pushed the door to his bedroom open. He missed his soft bed. Maybe he should move into another place with a bigger room without a window so that he could sleep in a real bedroom again. But how to pay for moving? He couldn't go back to his job again. He couldn't work as a bank's clerk at night, could he? How was he supposed to pay his rent the next months?
He needed answers. He needed to know how to handle this. Especially this hunger for blood he felt.
He pulled on his pajama pants and shouldered the futon to set it up in the bathroom. At least he didn't have to worry about buying food and water. The heat bill wasn't a threat, either. All he was buying lately was cigarettes. He couldn't die of lung cancer anymore. That was the only bright side he'd discovered so far.
He rolled out his futon and scratched his chest absentmindedly.
He knew that he had to feed. He knew, as vampire, it was expected that he'd hunt down a young woman and take what he wanted. People expected him to kill, be ruthless, a creature of darkness.
And he felt it. He felt the (he had little doubts but lacked a better word) adrenalin rush through his system at the mere though of ramming his fangs into warm skin and drinkdrinkdrink until he was drenched in blood with a limp body dropping from his arms onto the dirty ground of a back alley.
He wanted it. Badly.
How would it feel to drink blood? How would it be to have the warm, red liquid flowing down his throat and pooling in his stomach? To have warmth back on the inside just for a few minutes?
What did it taste like?
Yes, he wanted it.
But at the time he was disgusted with himself.
He hated himself for what he was now and didn't even know for sure what exactly it was.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, opened his mouth and extended his fangs. It hurt. It hurt every time he did it. He brushed his teeth and fangs, adapting his routinized movements to the elongated canines. He still didn't know how to use them right. Was he supposed to break an artery or vein? Maybe a muscle would do, too? Just something with good blood flow? Now that he thought of it he wondered if sucking blood from a muscle would leave horrible bruises. He should take lessons in anatomy. Where, how deep, how was he supposed to bite?
He rinsed his mouth and cleaned his face from all make-up. He always liked being pale, it had a certain style, but now he was dead pale. The skin around his eyes just looked off. His lips were purple. At least he didn't have to worry about plucking his brows anymore. He laughed bitterly at that and dried his face with a clean, white towel.
He didn't know what to do.
He didn't fucking know.
It was an agonizing frustration burning in his chest. He thought that, maybe, this very feeling was the reason why so many vampires were as violent as they were. They didn't know how to handle their anger anymore. They were too desperate, enough to not care anymore.
Tora did.
Tora tried.
But then, he couldn't any longer and tried to follow tactics fiction taught him: go into a bar, seduce someone, drink their blood and leave. Do it fast. Don't leave a name.
As he walked the streets, smoking as substitute for breathing, he saw the sign of that bar. Midnight Blue. He had rolled his eyes at himself for picking that place. But the name was appropriate to what he was now, wasn't it? It felt like the right place to be.
And then, he had sat there, waiting for someone to be attracted, to approach him. He was waiting for an easy prey.
He switched off the light and lay down, covering his cold body with the thick blanket that had no more use than a meek comfort.
And then, there was Hiroto.
He was everything he would have never expected and yet wanted oh so badly.
________________________________________
← Previous.
→ Next.
________________________________________
Written in psychology class. Unna is a multi-tasking student.
Beta'ed by the one and only tingedwords. That's the least she can do for forcing me to write this.