Malachite [♂] .&&. Monochrome [♂]
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Golden triangles dance on the ceiling when you walk in.
My oxygen machine beeps a red-yellow cloudburst and then stops. It's been doing that rythmically for days now, and I still don't know what it means. I keep staring at the ceiling.
When you settle down next to me and take my hand, the bed sheets shifting makes a silver sound. Your heartbeat is purple-blue. I want it.
“Nice day today,” you say, in your expensive green voice. I try to tug my hand back. You don't let me. So instead I scowl and refuse to meet your eyes, damning the heart-rate monitor to my left, which betrays me so. It beeps yellow, yellow, canary yellow as the neon green grows faster and taller.
I spit at you in my gravel-grey voice, rough around the edges with red because I'm so hungry. “Don't you have somewhere else to be? Other people to torture? Some girl to-”
“Don't be rude,” you say, thawping the back of my hand in admonishment. “I haven't the time for anyone but you.”
“Flattering.”
“I like to think so, yes.”
“Get out.” I succeed in recovering my hand. It feels uncomfortably warm and I want to rinse it in a pail of icy water. When I finally meet your eyes, I always find it so unfitting- your eyes are gold and sharp when your voice is so smooth and round, a polished gemstone. A refined jade. Though you balance this with your over-priced, flashy pointed-toe shoes that click-clack like lemons on the hospital floors, it only suceeds in cementing my mental image of you. A snake. A stupid, slimy, green-yellow-neon-vomit snake and I hate you so much.
You ignore me and lean back. “Come on now,” your yellow eyes never waver from my grey. I'm too stubborn to back down and you're too much of an- “I've blocked all the cameras in this room. They're not getting any audio feed, either. The nurses won't be back for the night and neither will your doctors.”
You lean in again, steepling your fingers in the way you know I hate. “A little bite couldn't hurt. And it must be so terrible in here, everyone pumping you full of medicine and sticking you with needles, panicking because nothing's coming up in the tests.
“What say we stop playing hospital and get you out of that bed?”
I was about to say something extremely rude and feathery-sharp, and, yes, horribly yellow; but you clamp your palm to my mouth before I can say anything, and your pulse stops me short. My pupils dialate and I start to salivate- you're waving food under my nose and in front of my mouth and I hate you.
But humanity regains control. I think the painkillers are making me braver. I grab your wrist and bend your thumb at an odd angle until you relent, kneeling on the floor beside my gurney. Finally I see something other than overconfident calmness in your expression, and in retaliation you rip the I.V drip from my veins with cruel fingers. I catch a glimpse of your forked tounge before you stand, the fury of a serpent foiled. I can only grin at you, a smirk full of fangs and fury of my own.
“Get out,” I say again, and it looks like you're actually going to comply for once- but then you stop in the narrow doorway, and the light from the hall halos your figure in the most ironic of ways, a blasphemy upon itself.
You send precious jade flying back at me, your parting lover's token. “One day that girl will not be enough to sustain you. One day you'll grow incapable of feeding off her energy, however willingly it is given.”
“Untill I sink so low,” gravel-grey grinding down the jade, a rare victory marked in dust. “Farewell.”
x-x-x-x
Selcouth what are you doing.
You've had three hours of sleep in the past two days.
Now you're writing about vampires in hate-love relationships go to bed. :c
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