The rain collected itself in pools around Sebastian’s thick boots. The sound of clashing droplets hitting the cracked pavement was consistent. Sebastian held pianist’s fingers to his almost white hair, hanging in clumps against his pale skin. He was thoroughly permeated by the cold storm and walked with his head down. Moving swiftly across the somewhat busy street to get to the café in front of him, people crowded around the entrance. Others in their thick winter coats tried to shield themselves from the wetness. They grumbled to each other about the unfortunate weather, watching with disgruntled eyes as cars hissed past them.
Inside Sebastian ordered a coffee, not caring to even squeeze some of the moisture that dripped from him. After grabbing the steaming cup, he moved to the back of shop. It was crowded with people searching for shelter in the growing swell. Even inside with the din of conversation you could hear the pounding storm.
Sitting down he grazed over the gathered herd with hot blue eyes. Digging into the chatter with a cold glare and not caring to hide his disgust at them. It wasn’t long after this that his cell phone began to ring. Clattering within the damp pocket of his coat, he pulled it out with reluctance. He store at the printed name that flashed on the screen with little earnest.
“Hello,” He answered his smoky voice crackling through the device. “Sebastian where are you?” It was the gruff voice of Dante. He nearly yelled through the phone at him. “Out of the rain,” Was a simple reply. Sebastian took another sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair.
“We have a situation with your brother.” Dante offered him in quick drawl. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow, he rarely heard bad news about Simon. “There was a fight,” Dante’s voice was tense and kept getting lower. Sebastian watched the other guests now to make sure they weren’t listening in, not that they had any reason to. “He has been stabbed in the neck, missed the jugular vein but did enough damage. He’s breathing but we don’t know enough…” He trailed off.
“I don’t see what you need me for.” Sebastian answered coolly. His coffee kept getting bitterer and he ran a pink tongue across his lips. The aftertaste of the strong brew wasn’t dispelled. “He is your brother.” Dante was exhausted from his tone of voice.
Sebastian clicked off the phone and threw it into the trashcan.
The barista was staring at him with startled brown eyes. He glanced at her or rather through her and stood up, throwing the unsatisfying drink away. Her thin lips pressed together as she took him in. He blinked rapidly and handed her another couple of dollars. "Coffee," He ordered another. She took the money from his hands. He couldn't help but notice the chaffed fingers and brittle nails against his smooth appendages. His eyes darkened a shade and he scratched at his ears, trying to keep at bay the noise being made by everyone around him.
After having collected his drink he walked out. He mechanically pushed open the door. He swayed as he walked, taking slow steps. “Idiot,” He took another swig of coffee. The heat of the cup pulsed against his skin. He was vaguely aware of the water seeping into the wasted paper cup but didn’t care to do much about it.
Sebastian stepped into the room. The air was full of blood, Simon’s to be exact. The salty tang made the room seem even denser. His dripping coat didn’t help to release the hold of the dank chamber. Immediately heat reached him, gliding across the room and entrapping him within his coat.
Simon lay on the bed, sprawled half hazard across the mattress. There was a clot of bandages swaddling his neck. It was stained with his crimson as he breathed just barely. Sebastian knew full well why he couldn’t be taken to a hospital. He cursed at the luck.
Beside the iron wrought bed sat Dante. A tall and dark man slouching into the chair he sat at. The rough texture rubbed against his scarred skin. He had his hands clasped to his lips as he watched Simon with pitiful black eyes. Sebastian looked at his brother fully, disregarding to greet either of them.
The heavy lids fluttered rapidly in a restless sleep, the tan skin now pallid, and his thick lips frosty and cracked; his once shaggy hair now limp and full of sweat. Sebastian stared emptily at his sibling. Simon seemed so frail and broken, most likely he wouldn’t survive given the injury.
“You look awfully concerned?” Sebastian called out to Dante. Whom looked at him and he noticed for the first time the bloodshot eyes and hard lines that appeared there. Sebastian squinted. “Is there more to the story?” He bit a fingernail thoughtfully as he store down the man in front of him. Dante looked forlorn as he shook his head, swallowing a growing lump.
“No,” His voice was raw, overused and he sniffed like he had a cold. Sebastian became suspicious of Dante then, officially questioning the moment. “How much time do you give him?” Sebastian’s eyes flashed coldly and he tilted his head back as if too tired to stay awake.
“He is your brother for the sake of…” Dante trailed off. Sebastian sneered at him. Dante had been the leader of their so called orphanage and what Sebastian saw wasn’t a strong example of that. He turned away from the scene. “He was weak.”
“Now you wait just a moment.” Dante’s voice broke sharply amid Simon’s shallow breaths. Sebastian remained with his back turned as he spoke. “Just what has you so concerned?”
“Do you not care anything about this? Your own brother is facing death and you just stand there.” Dante had to close his eyes and settle himself, his fists clenched into each other. In the enclosure of the room beads of sweat pricked around Dante’s face, staring into his eyelids. Sebastian held no sympathy for the obviously tortured man. He grunted in dissatisfaction. “That’s all you wanted to know?”
There was no response as Dante opened his eyes to Simon’s agonized frame. “You two are pathetic,” Sebastian walked away the same way he had come in, robotic. The door creaked and slammed behind him as he shut it. He sighed, a long breath into the shadows, feeling his back too heavy before his legs began to move again.
That was when he noticed feet scuttling across the wood floor. Not his own boots which squelched slowly along the floor. The sound was like nails tapping on a window, sharp staccato trills rumbling against the other. Sebastian growled deep within his chest.
The little hands where at him. The needle nails digging into his flesh insidiously. Little parasite teeth traveling across his membrane as he struggled against the monsters pit against him. There were a great number of them as they battled him. Trying to rip and eat at his skin.
With sure hands he grabbed the creatures and crushed their writhing bodies in his hands. Their gelatin like blood covered his already soiled clothing and made his hands sticky with slime. It was then that he noticed the whispers they chanted through mouthfuls of his own flesh.
“Little prince, little prince, let me in, let me in.”
“I know the key,”
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