Hexus: Neo

)10( Isomer

"But if I can't..."

"I understand."

Damilare sighed and went up the stairs, and for a few seconds, Ecru was unable to move. Every part of his body had begun to ache, and he was becoming increasingly more sensitive to his environment. His breathing sounded hoarse, like wind rushing through a tunnel, and the lights, though dull, were starting to look painfully bright. His ears were assaulted by every vibration and tremor, the sounds of footsteps on the floor above, squeaking noises, the hum of the refrigerator, muffled voices having conversations. Even the empty mug he held in his left hand seemed heavier, the ceramic tingling at the skin where it touched his fingers. He took a step forward and winced; his boot echoed almost painfully in the empty corridor, reverberating in his ears like a hurried metronome. He reached up and sank his clawed fingers into his hair, pulling at it and using the pain as a distraction. His next steps were slower, but even the gradual gritty sound of his sole pressing against the stone floor was just as irritating. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the pain as sharp canines tore against the inside of his lips.

I'm not going to last.

With laboured effort, he made his way up the stairs, and ignoring the many sensations struggling for dominance in his brain, he managed to concentrate enough to walk towards the kitchen. He wasn't sure what he hoped to get from there, but he felt he had to do something. Another cup of kava wasn't going to hurt. There was a heartbeat in the direction he was headed, which became louder as he approached, and he turned into the large agonizingly bright room to meet a young male figure hunched over the kitchen counter, his attention focused on the sandwich he was preparing. His light blonde hair, pale skin, narrow jaw complemented by a slightly long thin nose, and scent were so distinctly familiar that Ecru's addled brain was shocked into alertness.

No...

It can't be...

"Javier?"

The heartbeat quickened as the teenage boy startled and looked up. In his surprise, he accidentally flung the utensil he was holding, and Ecru watched, as though in slow motion, as the blunt table knife fell to the tiled floor. The high-pitched clinging sound rattled him to the bone, and he hissed, baring his fangs. The young man flinched, but still managed a scowl.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't hear you come in."

Ecru glared at the offending object for a moment, then flicked his gaze up to the boy. Now that his face was better lit, Ecru saw the subtle differences. He shook his head at his own idiocy as he walked towards the kitchen cabinets on the left; perhaps it was the hunger that was making him illogical, but there was no way Javier would still look like a teenager after almost eighty years. Still, the resemblance was uncanny. He reached for the tea cabinet and sorted through the many labelled sealed glass jars. The Kava jar didn't have a lot left. He grabbed the Passionflower instead, pouring a generous dose into a mug, and with a thought, turned on the electric kettle plugged in the corner. He turned around, grimacing as the teenager threw the fallen knife into the sink before reaching to get another from the cutlery rack.

"Did your mother ever tell you how much you look like your grandfather?"

The young man stopped midway and turned. He looked puzzled by the question for a moment, and then he shrugged it off with a disinterested look as he opened a jar of mayonnaise.

"No. I never even met him. He died when I was little."

Ecru wrinkled his nose at the jar and turned away slightly. "You never saw any pictures?"

"I did. He was already old in most of them. But maybe that was from the chemo. He had throat cancer."

"Sorry to hear that. Anyway, when he was young, he looked just like you. It's funny, because the last time I saw him, he was probably around your age. That was shortly before I..."