Chapter Text
“Hey,” a voice says, kind and soft, but so so taunting. “We’re matching”
Pyro doesn’t react, just stays on his knees in the lake. Hands digging into the pebbles of the shore. Blood thinned by water soaks into his clothes and drips from his hair and down his body. It pools beneath him, staining the stones red before gentle waves lap it up and carry it back into the rest of the water.
“Well, I don’t know how much of a head injury that is. More on the neck, really” it continues on. He refuses to look up. Refuses to raise a hand to his neck to feel the bloody mess that is his murder. “But still in the water!”
He squeezes his eyes shut when he sees feet step in front of him, between his hands. Shiny polished shoes, tailored pants, both seeming almost damp. He doesn’t want to look. “That’s rude” they say, far too clear in his ear when the voice should be further up. Rather the words ricochet in his mind.
“Your friends are getting worried” he just knows that they’re smiling. The tone is all too familiar. It’s second nature to imagine the belittling grin and raised eyebrows to match. Pyro opens his eyes, pointedly keeping them on the water below.
“Right, well” A voice, a different voice, Owen, says. “Welcome to the ranks”
They force themself up, angling themselves to face towards Scott, ignoring the presence still standing in the lake. “Vampires?” he says, eyeing the two… well, monsters he suppose, in front of him. They don't look like monsters. They look like people. Owen has already wiped the blood from his mouth. Scott… well Scott’s eyes are red, and there’s still the gore from killing Pyro staining his face, arms and coat. But he still doesn’t look monstrous. Both just seem so… human.
“Maybe it’s the fact they seem so human” The man standing in the lake chimes in. Neither Scott nor Owen react, and so Pyro doesn’t either, just looks forward and tries his best to pay attention as they talk. It’s hard though. Hard when he can’t feel his own heart and every breath seems wrong. Hard when even as they lead him through the woods back to town there is a steady presence behind him.
“I will say” the voice drawls, Pyro turning sharply to avoid looking at him. “It was rather stupid of you. Just look at how that guy dresses”
“We should split up” Scott says, oblivious to the dead man insulting his sense of style. “It’ll be better if we all go to town separately”
“Yeah” Pyro hears themself saying, and is distantly aware of the other two vampires wandering away from them. The other two vampires. He’s a vampire. He’s dead.
“It could be worse” the voice says flippantly, just out of view. “You could be haunting some buzzkill”
“You’re not real” Pyro mutters, turning away to walk deeper into the forest, hoping to find his way back to the path.
“And really” he continues, uncaring of Pyro, “It’s your own fault. Honestly, who on earth is stupid enough to walk into the night with two strangers?”
Pyro feels their fists clench.
“Oh. Ha! Well, I guess you are” He mocks, smiling. Pyro can’t see him, but they know he’s smiling. “No surprise there”
“You’re not real” Pyro repeats, swiftly shutting his eyes when he catches the glimpse of a figure standing beside him.
“If anyone were to be led out in the woods to be killed it would be you” he drones, still impossible to pinpoint when his voice comes from everywhere. “And you couldn’t even die properly. Had to go and become a creature of the night”
Pyro whips around, hands coming up to grab at the person beside him, but he’s met with air and ends up colliding with a tree. They stare at where their fingers dig into the wood.
“Hey!” Czeslaw says, next to the tree, dripping as if he just crawled out of a river, part of his skull bloody and caved in, black hair messy and falling over his face. His eyes are a dead grey, but still manage to be half-lided in mockery. “No hard feelings, mate. We’re just two fellow undeads”
“I’m not–” Pyro cuts himself off. Takes a step away from the tree, from Czeslaw, turns back to continue his trek through the woods. “You’re not undead. You’re not real”
“Maybe not,” he responds, lighthearted, as if this is nothing. “But I’m real enough to you, aren’t I?” Pyro catches just a glimpse of the inquisitive look on his face before he turns his head, finally finding the path.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just in my head” Pyro whispers, to themself, quiet enough that Czeslaw can’t hear.
“If that’s what keeps you sane” But of course he hears. He’s in their head.
“It’s nice of you” He continues conversationally as Pyro walks towards the town. “To keep me alive. I’m sure being dead is much more boring than watching the trainwreck that you are. Although I can’t really say if it’s preferable or not, haven’t personally been to the afterlife”
“Then why don’t you,” Pyro responds through gritted teeth. “It’d be easier to save us both the despair and just fuck off”
“Oh, Pyro” Czeslaw coos, and Pyro wants to bash his head in again. “We already established this, I’m in your head. I’ve got no choice in it. This is all you”
He hates it. He hates it because it’s the truth. It’s all him. All of it. Czeslaw isn’t real, it’s Pyro who’s letting him be real. It’s Pyro who’s been hallucinating a dead man since the past however many weeks it’s been since they killed him. It’s Pyro who can’t focus on anything but the taunting voice that follows him and the bite mark on his neck.
“You might want to clean up, by the way” Czeslaw says, always in line with his thoughts, always butting in, always there. “Can’t say I don’t enjoy you looking worse, but you’re certainly bringing an ‘attacked by vampires’ vibe to the town that I’m sure your friends won’t appreciate”
“They’re not my friends,” Pyro says, in lieu of anything else. Although they do angle their walk to go towards the river.
“That’s rude. They seemed plenty friendly to me!” he says cheerfully, walking ahead so that Pyro is given full view of where they hit him. It’s a bloody mess, hair mixing with bone mixing with brain.
“Then again” Czeslaw turns to grin at him, “They have done me a favour, haven’t they?”
Pyro feels himself unconsciously raise a hand to his neck, feeling the mix of dried blood and dripping water and slimy coagulation there. Vampire stories always have a clean, two little pinpricks bite. Pyro’s isn’t like that, not at all. There are scratches over his body, gashes along his shoulder and throat where Scott dug his claws in. The bite mark itself is twisted and wide, more than just the fangs but wounds from the other teeth as well. As if Scott had tried to take a bite and tear rather than just siphon.
“It’s your own fault for running. If you wanted it pretty you would’ve stayed put” he always says the quiet part aloud. Pyro can’t remember if this is a trait he always had, or if he only picked it up as a ghost.
“I’m washing my clothes” they say aloud, turning away from the twisted image of the man he murdered and instead shucking his coat, leaning down to rinse it in the river.
“Should probably get something to cover the neck, it’s too obvious to just say you had it before” it’s the worst when he’s helpful. When he gives tips that benefit Pyro.
“You’re very rude,” Czeslaw says in response.
Pyro cups water in his hands, bringing it up to scrub at the wounds on his throat and shoulders. “Though you might’ve figured that out by now”
“Hmm” Czeslaw sits down beside him, wet clothes squelching against the rocky shore. “Yeah. I did. Something about getting my head bashed in by a rock tipped me off to it”
But not before. Before he did just because he was an asshole.
“That’s what you think” he answers Pyro’s thought once more. “Remember, I’m just you. So we don’t actually know how I felt. Maybe I thought you were always rude. Maybe I did it for the love of the game. Certainly, you were undeserving of any good that came to you. I think we can agree on that”
“This is a cruel trick” they mutter, going to check their reflection in the water before realising they can’t see anything there. Right. Vampire. No reflection.
He takes his coat out of the river, wipes it over his neck, dunks it back into the water once more. Hopefully wrings the blood out, before throwing it back over his shoulders. He pulls his cravat further up, trying to get it to cover as much of the injury as possible. He’s sure it'll look silly, but it’s better than suspicious.
“Wouldn’t want that” Czeslaw whispers in his ear, accompanied by a chill running down his spine and the cold feeling of intangible hands running over his shoulder.
“Please go away” Pyro says, voice raw. “Please just leave me alone” When he turns around again, Czeslaw isn’t there. His voice doesn’t ring through Pyro’s mind, and there’s no evidence that he was ever there. But they still feel the chill from where he touched them. And they know that he’ll be back.
He always is.