Chapter Text
Blaine craved power. Major Lilywhite tore through his men with god-like vigilante skills and Blaine wanted to feel the strength of this man’s determination running through his system.
But Blaine wasn't a fool, either. He knew who this man was, who this man loved. He wouldn't gorge himself on these brains. He couldn't afford to lose himself to someone else's personality—not now.
A taste was all he needed to quench his curiosity. He frowned. It was bland, yet metallic. He swallowed hard. Chewing another forkful over slowly, he idly wondered how he was ever going to get brains to taste halfway decent again, without his head chef, Cissie, to concoct new meals for him.
A shot rang out without warning, Blaine nearly choked on the remaining brains in his mouth. He turned abruptly, cursing aloud, looking to see who he was up against now.
He swallowed hard.
Olivia Moore.
Son of a bitch.
--
It's been well over a month since Liv shot him.
Blaine keeps Major's brains on ice, but he's not entirely sure why. The benefits to eating the brain are slim to the comparably more immense cons.
He was not fond of the man's moral code, and the amount of guilt that ensued after consumption.
And of course, the unwavering fondness for a miss Olivia Moore that would drive him insane.
He really should throw them out, he knows this, but he keeps them anyway. With his old system in ruins, he tells himself that he should keep them around, just in case he runs out of stock.
What a waste it would be to throw them out.
Yet he can't bring himself to sell them either. So they remain untouched, within Blaine's freezer.
Until one slow, Tuesday afternoon.
"My, my, Olivia Moore, you’re look stunning today." Blaine bowed slightly as he entered the morgue.
She looked up and frowned.
"What do you want?" She spat her words with as much hostility as she could muster.
Blaine didn't fight the grin that arose in response. "Why must you jump to such conclusions? Perhaps I just wanted to see you, catch up. I haven't seen you since, you know, you shot me."
She scoffed. "Please. You always have an ulterior motive, a plan up your sleeve." She reached for the scalpel beside her, an act of defense. "I'll have you know, I'm not in the mood for any of your games."
"Well that's good," he stepped around the table and was in her space in a second. "because I don't intend to play around."
Liv gripped her scalpel knife tighter as he loomed over her, she sucked in a breath.
They were so close, and he was staring at her with quite the intensity, but Liv would not waiver. She eyed him back, just as fiercely.
"I want you."
Liv's eyes widened momentarily, before she erupted in anger. "You monster."
She shoved him. Hard. He felt himself laughing despite this.
"What can I say? I can't help it, it's one of the side effects to this particular meal."
He searched her face, finding the slightest trace of tears welling in her eyes.
He'd pushed her too far.
Good.
It was sick and it was wrong, but so was he, and if he was going to be plagued with an irrational attraction to someone who wanted him dead, he may as well have some fun with it.
"You killed Lowell. You ate Major. You turned me into a zombie and you have the gall to show your face around here?"
Her face was almost heated. He could’ve sworn he saw the faintest bit of colour in her cheeks as she stood before him, enraged.
He felt his chest tightening just a bit.
"I want you to leave." She spoke with a voice that was surprisingly strong and commanding.
But that was the thing about Liv. He was always underestimating her. She was a small, pixie of a person who looked nothing like a threat—until she was kicking his ass and holding a gun to his head.
He swallowed thickly.
God. She was so stubborn.
So strong.
He felt an unfamiliar emotion bubbling up to the surface. These brains he was on were certainly maddening.
He felt...
Guilty?
The tears welling in her eyes betrayed her threatening visage. He once again stepped closer toward her, this time approaching slowly, humbly almost.
She looked at him, fear flashing behind her eyes momentarily as she kept her brows furrowed.
He raised his hand to cradle the side of her face, thumb brushing just under her eyelid, enticing a tear to fall.
With that, she failed to stifle a sob.
And then, quick as lightening, she proceeded to jam her scalpel knife in his forearm.
"Son of a--!!" He hissed, reeling back.
"Get the hell out of here, unless you want to be one of the bodies locked away in a drawer." Her eyes darkened to blood red and he knew it was best not to push further.
He frowned and nodded, pulling the scalpel out of his arm with a sickening sound and tossing it on the examiner's table carelessly. "Guns. Knives. Can't wait to see what you bring to our next date."
She said nothing in reply, instead relying on her cold stare to see him out.
At the exit, he turned back toward her, bowing his head slightly. "Lovely seeing you again, Miss Moore."
He left and let out a breath. It was good that he was leaving, the knot in his chest was getting sickening.
---
It was stupid thing he did, every so often, sampling those brains.
It really made him question himself and the choices he made. It was almost like he wanted to feel guilty about the evil deeds he dealt, but needed to garner another personality to accomplish such a feat.
Blaine didn't want to feel guilty though. It hindered his ability to run his business.
Yet he couldn't refrain from taking a hit of some certain brains when he felt he needed to. It was like some sort of twisted addiction.
"I saw you naked."
Liv whipped around at the sound of his voice. She had just gotten off her shift and was walking to her car when he approached her.
"I was trying out this new shampoo today, smelled kinda citrus-y? Might’ve been grapefruit. Got quite the rush from the vision that ensued. I mean, I always imagined, but you are quite the looker. Too bad the vision cut short, that shower was about to get dirty."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Liv folded her arms and turned to face him fully. "Can't help but poke and prod at the hornet's nest, huh? Why do you insist on testing me?"
"Look, I just suddenly felt like seeing you." He held up his hands in mock surrender.
"Yeah. Because you decided my fiancé would make for a delicious dinner."
"More of a snack, really."
The slight drop of her jaw as she looked offended was disgustingly adorable. Blaine had to bite back the grin that was forming.
"You're sick." She turned on her heel and began to make her way to her car.
"Olivia, wait." He reached out toward her.
She turned back toward him. "The only reason you're still alive right now is because this lot has a camera on it."
"Olivia." Blaine cringed. He sounded a bit too much like he was pleading. And this pleading was a bit too genuine for his liking. "I just. I want to apologize."
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You think I'm just going to accept some weak-ass apology?"
"Not really, no." He sighed. "But-- I'm losing my mind, I'm not really sure what else to do, or who else to talk to anymore, being that my old crew is all dead."
His attempt at a joke fell flat with her. Blaine ran a hand through his hair as he looked toward the sky. "I'm messed up now, Liv. I can't help but feel...bad...about how things went down between us. I liked knowing that there was someone else like me out there, someone competent and living their own life. Someone who didn't work for me or owe me."
He looked her in the eye, aiming to convey a sense of seriousness. "I keep coming back to these brains for whatever reason, and I think, until I try to make things right on my end, I'm not going to be able to move on mentally."
Liv shook her head. "Way to grow a conscious after it's too late, jackass.”
She turned away from him, this time for good. As she pulled out of the lot in her car, Blaine stood there, not really knowing where to go from there.
--
Blaine wanted to drink. There must be some sort of foul side effect that came from prolonged exposure to the same brains. Sure, it’d been a couple of weeks since he last took a shot of Lilywhite, yet he still didn't feel like himself. The logical course of action after that was to take a hit from ingesting Major's brain once again.
If he wasn't going to feel like himself, he at least wanted to know who he felt like.
And he still felt weird about Liv.
It wasn't even a feeling he could describe. It was just like he was angry that she was angry.
Like he wanted to fix things.
Which was moronic because that was impossible.
He stared down at his phone, he happened to have her number punched in, his thumb was hovering over the call button. He had received her number from either her brother or her boyfriend, he couldn't really remember, but that didn’t matter. He simply lamented the fact that he was weighing over this "dilemma" like some sort of love-struck teenager.
How disgusting.
He pressed the call button and listened to the dial tone.
It rang until it got to voicemail.
"This is Olivia Moore, I'm unavailable right now so leave me a message and I'll get back to you."
Blaine sucked in a breath as her words drove him into a vision.
"Liv, it's me. Please, please, please pick up. If you're having second thoughts about the wedding or whatever, that's, that's fine. We can take this slow, whatever you want. I just, we need to talk. I want to know what's on your mind, Liv. Okay. I'll uh. I'll stop blowing up your phone just, get back to me, please. I love you."
Blaine hung up.
---
Liv didn't need this.
This wasn't who she was, this wasn't who he was.
She choked on a sob as he stepped closer and pulled her towards him.
The brains of a supposed suicide victim confirmed her suspicions on the cause of death, and left Liv emotionally vulnerable during Blaine's routine annoyance of a visit.
And of course, as he always seemed to be, he had been running on whatever remnants he still had of Major.
So when she broke down before him, he was at her side, cradling her in his embrace.
She wasn’t this person, so broken that they had given up on living, and he wasn’t the kind of person who would lend a hand, let alone a hug, yet here they were.
His touch felt so foreign, yet so familiar. Liv wanted to claw her own flesh off, she hated herself for being comforted by his presence.
But she was so alone.
And from what she could tell, so was he.
So, for the moment, she could ignore the fact that she hated him with every fiber of her being, and just be.