Work Text:
Your name is
Theo
Soda, and you’re worried.
Emizel told you to run, and you didn’t want to, but then he was covered in blood and he bit that guy, and he told you to run so you did, figuring he would be able to handle himself and get out of there. But it’s been eight hours and nobody’s seen him. You tried calling him and it went straight to voicemail, so you can only assume his phone is dead.
After what happened last night, most of the Demons are either too injured or too afraid to go out and look for Emizel, so you’ve been up all night at the warehouse, pacing and worrying.
Worst case scenario, your best friend bled out in the alley and is dead and you’ll be inconsolable for the next three months and you won’t know how to live anymore. Best case scenario, he beat the shit out of that guy and he’s just missing because he had to go see his dad or something. You figure most likely, they came to some sort of stalemate and Emizel is fine, or as fine as he can be considering he got a nasty bite to the neck.
You’re about to start considering the worse possibilities when you hear a door open and you jump to your feet.
“Emizel!?” you call out, rushing down the rusty stairs and into the common area. You scan the area with hope rising in your chest, but it’s just Chris and Luke, who grimace at your expression and continue on their way to the couch. Fuck.
You decide enough is enough and you call out to the guys that you’re heading out to look for Emizel. Nobody volunteers to help, but they all wish you good luck and you’re handed a couple cans of Mountain Dew, which you gratefully stash in your pockets.
The first place you go is the alley where the fight happened. Nobody’s there, which you suppose is better than seeing a corpse, and if Emizel isn’t here, then surely he was able to get up and leave. You crack open one of the sodas you were given and take a sip. Then another.
Fuck it, you chug the thing.
With a newfound rejuvenation
which is probably just the caffeine
and a lack of Emizel in the area, you turn around to keep searching.
The second place you choose to look is the fort you and Emizel built when you were kids. Some people grow out of childhood hiding spots, but the two of you have been hanging out at this spot together for years. It’s really nice to have when the Demons are getting a bit too much, or you just feel like hanging out together as friends instead of gang members. It’s your favorite place in the world.
You head to the park and into the forest behind it. It’s one of the few places in the city that’s not paved out or built in or marketed, and people have never seemed to have an interest in the forest when there was a playground and track right next to it. As you approach the fort, you can see a silhouette inside and your heart leaps.
“Emizel?” you whisper. “That you, man?”
The figure jumps at your voice, then shifts around a bit and nods. “Yeah, Soda,” he says. “It’s me.” Emizel’s voice sounds raspy, and a bit unsteady, like he’s been crying, or at least holding back tears.
You push aside the vines that cover the door and crouch inside. “You good, bro?” Emizel is huddled in the corner, hood pulled up and head turned away from you. You move closer and place a hand on his arm. “Emizel. Are you okay?” Your voice is softer now. If you’re honest with yourself, you have to admit that you might be more worried now than when you didn’t know where he was.
He takes a shaky breath and pushes his hood back. You jolt back in surprise as you see the state of your friend. He’s absolutely covered in blood. His face, his clothes, his hands. You know it’s not all his, you saw him bite that guy last night, but it’s still a lot of blood to see on one person.
“Emizel…” you say, barely loud enough for either of you to hear. He turns toward you, and you notice how different he looks. At first you thought it was the lighting, but now it’s pretty obvious how pale he is. He’s always been pale, ever since you were little, but this is a different kind of pale. There’s hardly any color to his skin at all, it’s like he’s dead.
You look up to his eyes, and the first thing you notice is that he looks scared. Emizel is never scared. But now, sitting right in front of you, he’s just radiating fear, like a threatened animal. Immediately after, you register the fact that his eyes are bright red, almost glowing in the dim light. They’re also watery with tears and after a moment, he blinks and turns away again, furiously wiping at his eyes with his coat sleeve.
There’s a moment of tense silence, and you don’t like it, so you say, “You look so different, man,” and Emizel looks back at you with panic in his eyes.
“No, Soda, I’m not different,” he says, and you see his teeth, now long and sharp, and your eyes widen. “Soda! Soda, it’s me. I’m still me.” His voice gets quieter at the end of his sentence, and your heart breaks.
You suck in a breath and put your hand back on his arm, where it was before. “I know,” you say, “you’re still you. But you didn’t answer my question, dude. Are you okay?” You lean a bit closer, trying to look into his eyes.
Emizel meets your gaze and you see tears rolling down his cheeks, turning pink with the blood that cakes his face. “I don’t…I don’t know.” And with that, he breaks down.
You immediately pull him closer to you, hugging him tightly as he sobs into your chest. You lean against the wall with him and begin running your fingers through his hair. You note that his ears seem a bit pointier than yesterday, but decide that now maybe wouldn’t be the best time to bring it up.
The two of you stay there for probably ten minutes or something, Emizel clinging to you and you trying your best to soothe him. This really isn’t your strong suit, you tend to spend more of your time playing video games and drinking soda than being around people who are crying, but Emizel’s your best friend and God be damned if you don’t try your fucking best. Eventually, he seems to calm down a bit and his breathing evens out, so you pat his back and lean to the side a bit.
“You done?” Fuck, that sounded impatient. “I mean, like, are you better or whatever?” This is hard. “...Want some soda?” You pull the second can of Mountain Dew out of your pocket, and Emizel lets out a light laugh.
“You’re a fucking dumbass, you know that, right?” He sits up and unwraps his arms from around your torso.
You hand him the drink and give him a nudge with your elbow. “Of course, man, that’s my whole thing!” You grin at him, and he gives a small smirk back, and you’re reminded of his current situation. “Oh dude, cry on me all you want, but we have got to get you cleaned up. Like, now.”
Emizel looks down at his clothes, then his hands, and he grimaces. “Shit, I forgot,” he looks at your t-shirt and hoodie, which are now also smeared with blood. “Sorry, man, I was a bit busy freaking out about being a vampire or whatever.” He opens his can of soda and takes a swig, but then his eyes widen and he leans out the window of the fort and coughs it up. “Ow, fuck!” he wipes his mouth. “Man, this shit sucks ass.”
You gasp in offense, but you let it slide because he’s very vulnerable right now. “I’ll take it then,” you take the can from him and take a sip. “Now, out. You can’t be roaming the streets looking like you just ate someone.” Hang on. “...Did you eat someone?”
“Gross, dude,” Emizel pulls a face. “Of course I didn’t fucking eat someone!” He shoves past you and out of the fort.
“Good, I don’t think I would let you cry on me if you did,” you say. “Well, maybe. I might let you cry on me if you ate someone. I think it would depend on who-”
“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t eat anyone, and I’m not going to eat anyone in the future.” Emizel grabs your hand and pulls you up to standing. “Now find me somewhere to shower.”