Chapter Text
Scott hated that he could feel now.
Everything was so much easier and funner when you didn't have to worry about morals or emotions. You could just live in luxury and go kill some people if you ever got bored. Now he has to worry about helping people and paying rent and not revealing himself as a vampire and such things. He was stuck blending in, not batting around, not drinking human blood. He didn't even have a ballroom anymore!
Worse, though, was the grief.
He knew getting attached to people never ended well. 500 years spent as an immortal vampire taught that as well as anything could. When he'd woken up from 600 years of sleeping, he certainly didn't plan on getting attached to anyone, least of all someone as annoying and weak and at risk of dying as Avid.
Yet here he was, on his way to visit Avid’s grave.
The first time he'd visited the grave again, after Shelby and Drift had helped him come to terms with having emotions now (bleugh), he'd cried for the first time in over a thousand years.
He hadn't known he could cry anymore.
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Avid wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering for. This place was always dark, it had no sense of time.
At least for a while he’d had Elle. His best friend. After he found her, they’d stayed together, always keeping on moving. They’d kept each other sane, being stuck in limbo. But she’d found a way out, and Avid couldn’t follow. So now he was alone.
Avid could feel his sanity slipping away from him, all alone. He was slowly becoming less and less aware, surrounded by the same tall rocky spires, shadows and cobwebs. The dark fog and dusty particles surrounded him and burned his eyes and lungs. He missed Elle. He missed Drift and Shelby. He missed Scott… but he probably hated him now. Why did Avid have to kiss him?! He was surprised Scott hadn’t killed him on the spot at the beacon. Then again, Scott hadn’t treated him any different afterwards, maybe he didn’t hate him, maybe Scott actually cared about him? No, that was wishful thinking, he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to stay realistic, the fear was probably getting to him, making him believe crazy things could be true.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me.
Limbo was a strange and empty place, but he could always feel the demonic presence lurking around him, the darkness in the fog and shadows. It would never hurt him, he knew, but it was a part of him now, and he hated it. Being a vampire, he’d finally been free from the dark being, and the hunger it always made him feel. Now he was stuck in the place the goddamned thing came from.
All of this because he’d been so stupid, he never should have trusted Pyro and Owen, how had he been so naive, he’d dug his own grave?
It felt like he’d never find a way out of here.
Until he did.