People Who Aren't
People Who Aren't
With his nose up against the collar of Ryan's shirt, he sighed and murmured, "You don't know anything."
Ryan, whose eyelids were drooping with weariness, shifted his weight slightly and let out a serene sigh in reply. There was silence for a few moments before he forced his eyes open again, and with shaky vision and a tired voice, he asked, "What don't I know, Bren?"
"Everything. About them."
"Who's them?" Ryan tried to smother a yawn with his fingers.
"The people who..." Brendon's voice was soft, barely audible, blending into the night around them. "... Who aren't people."
Ryan rolled over, his arm wrapping around Brendon's waist and pulling him closer as he buried his face into the pillow. "What are you even talking about? What's the time?"
"They're everywhere, you know." Brendon's voice was a little harder now, and laced with something that Ryan could only identify as fear. There was a slight catch to his words, refusing to slide up his throat and out his lips as easily as they should.
"Are you okay?" Ryan's embrace tightened slightly as he bit his lip. Brendon tilted his head up to look at him, his nose brushing against Ryan's chin.
Brendon took a deep breath in and exhaled it unevenly, the ragged air condensing on Ryan's neck. "No one's safe."
"You're safe here."
"You know all the people you thought were -- were just normal?"
Ryan's teeth dug deeper into his lip as his brow furrowed. "Go to sleep, Brendon. It'll go away in the morning."
***
"Wait -- what happened to your arm?"
Brendon looked up, startled, at the question. He glanced down at his left forearm, which had four thin scratches, coloured deep red and weaved with an almost purple. He shrugged in an attempt to be nonchalant, but glanced away awkwardly.
Ryan frowned and reached forward, grabbing Brendon's wrist and pulling the wounds in clear sight, inspecting them closely. "Fingernails?" he said after a moment.
"Not mine," Brendon responded, defensively. Ryan's frown deepened, but Brendon desperately shook his head. "Ry, it was them."
"Who's them?"
"The people who aren't people." Brendon's words were not as delicate as they were the night prior. They were an attempt to convince Ryan that it was true -- because now there was more of a possibility that Ryan may not believe him.
"That doesn't really help me at all," Ryan sighed, and took a reluctant glance at the scratches again. "That doesn't really look like an accident, so who was it?"
Brendon licked his lips and swallowed deliberately in preparation for his reply. "It -- it grabbed me." He held up his forearm and nodded toward it. "And I got away."
"It? The people who aren't people? What does that even mean? If someone's tried to attack you or something, you don't need to be so goddamn cryptic --"
Ryan broke off, seeing the corners of Brendon's eyes slope down in sadness.
"Not just someone. It -- them -- they are scarier than any someone." Brendon's eyes were getting washed out with tears, his eyelashes beginning to stick together. "And they're everywhere -- fucking everywhere, Ryan!"
Ryan's mouth was slightly ajar and his eyebrows were askew in confusion. Though he looked ready to say something, no words came out.
"People don't even notice," Brendon added, faintly. "There's gaunt, pale bloodsuckers walking around everywhere and they don't even care."
"Bloodsuckers?" Ryan repeated.
"They're trying to kill people -- and me. Wherever I turn, there's one looking at me with black eyes. And they're always... reaching and grabbing and they don't stop, Ry. This whole fucking place is flooded with them."
"The people who aren't people." The phrase seemed to make a little more sense now, except for how ridiculous it all sounded. Ryan squirmed slightly where he sat, then pointed at Brendon's forearm. "And they did that when they grabbed you, and -- and --" Ryan swallowed, " -- and tried to kill you?"
"Yeah."
"I've never seen one," Ryan mumbled.
"You don't know anything."
Ryan inhaled deeply and leaned his head back against the couch. Despite Brendon's big eyes and awkward lips he couldn't quite bring himself to believe this story. Vampires. The idea of Brendon being surrounded by cape-flourishing, fanged weirdos was too hard to imagine. The marks on Brendon's arms frightened him -- that was true -- but this couldn't be the cause. Brendon was confused. That was all.
"This can't be real," Ryan said, quite honestly.
Brendon looked horrified. "It is, I swear it is Ry. You don't think I'm making this up do you?" he asked, frantically. "I wouldn't -- never -- please --"
"Shh, calm down. Just -- just look at me, Brendon." Ryan reached out, cupping Brendon's chin with his hands and pulling his face up so his eyes were focused on Ryan. He ran his thumb across his cheek. "These, uh, bloodsuckers? They don't really exist. They just... they're just not real. These things don't happen, Brendon."
"They do," Brendon insisted, wrapping his fingers tightly around Ryan's wrist.
"How?"
"I don't know. It just happened one day. There were none, then they were everywhere."
"Okay -- how about this? You ever see one of these things, you show me, 'kay, Bren? That way I'll see them and you'll see them, and I'll know. And I can protect you. Does that sound okay?"
Brendon nodded his head lightly in agreement.
"Okay -- okay. I love you," Ryan murmured, feeling slightly guilty.
Brendon smiled, mostly genuinely. "Love you too."
***
"Ryan."
It was a harsh, desperate whisper in the night, followed by the sound of shallow breathing.
Ryan felt Brendon grab his shoulder and shake him, jostling him awake. He reluctantly opened his eyes, barely able to see the boy through gloom and tiredness. He reached up and wiped the crustiness from the corners of his eyes, his mouth twisted downwards in confusion.
"Ryan, oh God."
"What?" Ryan tried not to snap the word.
"They're here -- they're fuckin' here and they can hear me."
Ryan squinted into the darkness for a few seconds, forgetting who 'they' was, and wondered who the hell was in his house in the late hours of the night. He jerked in surprise when the memory of their conversation flashed in his head. Oh.
"Where?" he whispered, peering harder around the room.
"Everywhere."
Ryan suddenly realised that Brendon was trembling against him, his hands scrabbling at Ryan's skin and his clothes and the bed covers.
"Ry -- Ry, w-what do I d-do?"
Ryan glanced around the room again, his eyes widening, his pupils big and trying to absorb as much as the dark could give him.
"Ry -- Ryan!"
Brendon's yell went up an octave, and the boy lurched away from Ryan with a scream. He thrashed, his arms flailing wildly and his legs kicking. He kept yelling wordlessly as Ryan's breath caught in his throat and he choked on fright.
"Help! Help me!"
Brendon's fingernails scratched at his wrists, trying to detach prying hands, but Ryan just looked on, panic rising in his chest as Brendon's movements grew more and more violent.
The thing that scared Brendon most were the dozens of bloodsuckers -- the people who aren't people -- reaching for him with clawed hands, fangs bared as their jaws unhinged and widened. With their eyes sunken into their heads but still shining bright in the night, and their colourless skin almost glowing in the blackness.
The thing that scared Ryan most was that Brendon was thrashing at empty air.
Ryan, whose eyelids were drooping with weariness, shifted his weight slightly and let out a serene sigh in reply. There was silence for a few moments before he forced his eyes open again, and with shaky vision and a tired voice, he asked, "What don't I know, Bren?"
"Everything. About them."
"Who's them?" Ryan tried to smother a yawn with his fingers.
"The people who..." Brendon's voice was soft, barely audible, blending into the night around them. "... Who aren't people."
Ryan rolled over, his arm wrapping around Brendon's waist and pulling him closer as he buried his face into the pillow. "What are you even talking about? What's the time?"
"They're everywhere, you know." Brendon's voice was a little harder now, and laced with something that Ryan could only identify as fear. There was a slight catch to his words, refusing to slide up his throat and out his lips as easily as they should.
"Are you okay?" Ryan's embrace tightened slightly as he bit his lip. Brendon tilted his head up to look at him, his nose brushing against Ryan's chin.
Brendon took a deep breath in and exhaled it unevenly, the ragged air condensing on Ryan's neck. "No one's safe."
"You're safe here."
"You know all the people you thought were -- were just normal?"
Ryan's teeth dug deeper into his lip as his brow furrowed. "Go to sleep, Brendon. It'll go away in the morning."
***
"Wait -- what happened to your arm?"
Brendon looked up, startled, at the question. He glanced down at his left forearm, which had four thin scratches, coloured deep red and weaved with an almost purple. He shrugged in an attempt to be nonchalant, but glanced away awkwardly.
Ryan frowned and reached forward, grabbing Brendon's wrist and pulling the wounds in clear sight, inspecting them closely. "Fingernails?" he said after a moment.
"Not mine," Brendon responded, defensively. Ryan's frown deepened, but Brendon desperately shook his head. "Ry, it was them."
"Who's them?"
"The people who aren't people." Brendon's words were not as delicate as they were the night prior. They were an attempt to convince Ryan that it was true -- because now there was more of a possibility that Ryan may not believe him.
"That doesn't really help me at all," Ryan sighed, and took a reluctant glance at the scratches again. "That doesn't really look like an accident, so who was it?"
Brendon licked his lips and swallowed deliberately in preparation for his reply. "It -- it grabbed me." He held up his forearm and nodded toward it. "And I got away."
"It? The people who aren't people? What does that even mean? If someone's tried to attack you or something, you don't need to be so goddamn cryptic --"
Ryan broke off, seeing the corners of Brendon's eyes slope down in sadness.
"Not just someone. It -- them -- they are scarier than any someone." Brendon's eyes were getting washed out with tears, his eyelashes beginning to stick together. "And they're everywhere -- fucking everywhere, Ryan!"
Ryan's mouth was slightly ajar and his eyebrows were askew in confusion. Though he looked ready to say something, no words came out.
"People don't even notice," Brendon added, faintly. "There's gaunt, pale bloodsuckers walking around everywhere and they don't even care."
"Bloodsuckers?" Ryan repeated.
"They're trying to kill people -- and me. Wherever I turn, there's one looking at me with black eyes. And they're always... reaching and grabbing and they don't stop, Ry. This whole fucking place is flooded with them."
"The people who aren't people." The phrase seemed to make a little more sense now, except for how ridiculous it all sounded. Ryan squirmed slightly where he sat, then pointed at Brendon's forearm. "And they did that when they grabbed you, and -- and --" Ryan swallowed, " -- and tried to kill you?"
"Yeah."
"I've never seen one," Ryan mumbled.
"You don't know anything."
Ryan inhaled deeply and leaned his head back against the couch. Despite Brendon's big eyes and awkward lips he couldn't quite bring himself to believe this story. Vampires. The idea of Brendon being surrounded by cape-flourishing, fanged weirdos was too hard to imagine. The marks on Brendon's arms frightened him -- that was true -- but this couldn't be the cause. Brendon was confused. That was all.
"This can't be real," Ryan said, quite honestly.
Brendon looked horrified. "It is, I swear it is Ry. You don't think I'm making this up do you?" he asked, frantically. "I wouldn't -- never -- please --"
"Shh, calm down. Just -- just look at me, Brendon." Ryan reached out, cupping Brendon's chin with his hands and pulling his face up so his eyes were focused on Ryan. He ran his thumb across his cheek. "These, uh, bloodsuckers? They don't really exist. They just... they're just not real. These things don't happen, Brendon."
"They do," Brendon insisted, wrapping his fingers tightly around Ryan's wrist.
"How?"
"I don't know. It just happened one day. There were none, then they were everywhere."
"Okay -- how about this? You ever see one of these things, you show me, 'kay, Bren? That way I'll see them and you'll see them, and I'll know. And I can protect you. Does that sound okay?"
Brendon nodded his head lightly in agreement.
"Okay -- okay. I love you," Ryan murmured, feeling slightly guilty.
Brendon smiled, mostly genuinely. "Love you too."
***
"Ryan."
It was a harsh, desperate whisper in the night, followed by the sound of shallow breathing.
Ryan felt Brendon grab his shoulder and shake him, jostling him awake. He reluctantly opened his eyes, barely able to see the boy through gloom and tiredness. He reached up and wiped the crustiness from the corners of his eyes, his mouth twisted downwards in confusion.
"Ryan, oh God."
"What?" Ryan tried not to snap the word.
"They're here -- they're fuckin' here and they can hear me."
Ryan squinted into the darkness for a few seconds, forgetting who 'they' was, and wondered who the hell was in his house in the late hours of the night. He jerked in surprise when the memory of their conversation flashed in his head. Oh.
"Where?" he whispered, peering harder around the room.
"Everywhere."
Ryan suddenly realised that Brendon was trembling against him, his hands scrabbling at Ryan's skin and his clothes and the bed covers.
"Ry -- Ry, w-what do I d-do?"
Ryan glanced around the room again, his eyes widening, his pupils big and trying to absorb as much as the dark could give him.
"Ry -- Ryan!"
Brendon's yell went up an octave, and the boy lurched away from Ryan with a scream. He thrashed, his arms flailing wildly and his legs kicking. He kept yelling wordlessly as Ryan's breath caught in his throat and he choked on fright.
"Help! Help me!"
Brendon's fingernails scratched at his wrists, trying to detach prying hands, but Ryan just looked on, panic rising in his chest as Brendon's movements grew more and more violent.
The thing that scared Brendon most were the dozens of bloodsuckers -- the people who aren't people -- reaching for him with clawed hands, fangs bared as their jaws unhinged and widened. With their eyes sunken into their heads but still shining bright in the night, and their colourless skin almost glowing in the blackness.
The thing that scared Ryan most was that Brendon was thrashing at empty air.