Blood Lazarus

11 \ brother

A thud resounds in the room.

Asher picks himself up, his hands on his hip as he stares at the fallen chair. Shadows shift; a hand cupping his chin, a leg on the chair's back that once supported his, a laughter that even darkness cannot tame. The lavender scent pricks his nostrils. Asher shuts his eyes and lets the night consume him, lets the cold air subdue his nerves, lets the rain drown the guttural noise.

Taps on the floor send tiny creaks about his feet. Styx and Acheron roar and claim him. Asher squeezes his eyes tightly and bounces on the balls of his feet. The ice on his crotch tries to dominate him, but the fear of the shadow of Belphegor unleashed into the room quells him more. Perhaps it isn't so far-fetched to say that he's been the Faust he's looking for.

"You heard what I said, mate."

Asher snaps his eyes open and clutches the cold hand on his chin. "You could've doctored the video. You lured me to your house so I would see this. You will now exsanguinate me."

Varen drops his hand and jabs Asher's shoulder. "The video is unedited." Another jab. "But you're right. I killed myself when I heard your voice at the counter, and resurrected myself, so we could finally talk like this."

Asher grabs the finger and cracks it with a smirk, reminiscing the sound of popping a bubble wrap. Sure, Varen might have spilled his iced water on him, but it will never as satisfying as this.

"After we talk, you will kill me?" Asher eyes the sling bag on the bed while Varen sucks his finger.

Shaking his head, Varen bites a nail and spits it into Asher's face. "I am not your murderer, mate. I just needed to do something to get your attention, to let you know I'm on your side. You can't pursue them alone when you don't have a plan."

Asher cocks his head sideways. "I don't need your help."

"I gave you a second chance at life because you still have many years ahead of you. Of course you'd seek vengeance, like the noob you are." Varen props his chair up and sits. "I can help you. And afterwards, you can return to your normal life—"

"There's no 'normal' anymore. That's for fools!" Asher smacks the youth's temple. Warmth tinges.

That's right. This heat... Varen said he doesn't need wrath, but I do. It's the only thing keeping me alive, besides Jun.

Staccato breaths fill the space between them.

"I kept checking in on you," Varen murmurs. "I don't want you to hurt yourself and the people around you. When I saw you play BL, I thought you decided to live out the life you always wanted. But you used the demon's weapon on me."

Asher steels himself and turns away, diverting his attention to the window. "You could've just left me to rot. That way, there will only be grief."

Varen's gaze penetrates him as the youth clasps his hands together. "What do you know of grief? What do you know about life and death anyway?"

Asher blinks and closes the video. He doesn't need to relive that night, but the floodgates have opened, the bitter scenes breaking his heartstrings. The odour of loneliness sinks in as a raven soaring above a city partially obscured by clouds emerges onscreen.

Varen's cracked voice comes on again. "It hurts, mate. When a stranger reminds you so much of your dead brother that you got to resurrect him, hoping this time round, just this time, it would succeed."

A bunch of stationery rolls across the table and pelts the wall, then disrupt the rain's syncopation as they slip onto the floor. Asher glances at the youth whose eyes attempt to conceal a polluted sea and lips zip to hide clenched teeth and a tongue ready for war.