Euphoria

Chapter Four: Neon District

Sean looked up at the neon sign above the club he'd gone to multiple times, his face shadowed by the hood over his head.

Parallel.

He didn't understand what it stood for, and he could feel curiosity crawling up, but that wasn't what he came here for. He'd traveled into Modified territory, just an hour and a half outside of UnModified grounds, near where he lived, in the middle of all the chaos. In his opinion, hanging around UnModified was much better than being with "his own people." If they knew he preached about equality, or that some of his brothers were UnModified, they'd end up killing him, segregating him, committing him, or making an example of him for associating with people like them.

Sean steeled himself, knowing he's made a few enemies, and he could easily be recognized by the slightest slip-up. He walked over to the bodyguard out front, looking up at him, his chest tightening. Tall dude, he thought. "I'm here for a friend of mine."

The man's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. It almost looked as if Sean could punch him right now and he wouldn't feel a thing. "I'm gonna need to see your ID. And your face."

"Aw, please? Can't you just help a brother out?"

"You're not my brother. Now get the hell out of here before I grind your bones to make my bread. Got it?"

Sean couldn't help but smirk, his heart starting to pound in his chest. "Going the giant route, huh?"

Sean ducked past the guard, running straight into the club and shouting, "Guess you're dumb like one too!" He knew it wasn't a particularly clever line, but he didn't want to make the guard mad enough to continue trying to find him in this thick crowd.

"Come back here, you little—!"

The rest of the guard's sentence was cut off, a new track playing over the speakers. Sean recognized this song. I Am by Hands Like Houses. It seemed to fit the club atmosphere well.

The purple and blue lights flashing around the crowd were nearly blinding, easily contrasted by the black wallpaper and dark marble flooring. Turquoise crystal lights hung from the ceiling, small LED lights in between each spike. Strangely enough, the back VIP area wasn't occupied, and the extended bar was nearly 20 feet from the entrance.

No one seemed to mind, but it was almost too much. He knew the owner, and he had certainly outdone himself with this place, but it wasn't a spot Sean could see himself hanging around too often.

Sean could hear the distance but close curses of the guard he'd ditched moments before, melting into the crowd for a while before appearing next to the bar, sitting down on a stool and looking over at his brother he'd noticed upon further inspection of the place.

"Jameson." He said.

Jameson shifted his gaze over to his brother, giving off an exhausted sigh. "Sean. Glad you could make it. You'd make a good detective." He said, sarcasm obvious in his voice. "You didn't seem to have any trouble finding me."

"Very funny. Here's what you asked for." He handed Jameson the Bayer Aspirin bottle, making sure no one could see the exchange between the two.

"What? Not even going to hug your brother?" Jameson chuckled, but the enjoyment didn't quite reach his silvery-blue eyes, and he fell silent, suppressing a cough. "Go on. Get it off your chest."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play games. You bring it up every time we see each other. So, ask me."

From the glare of the strobe lights, Sean could hardly see his brother's pale complexion and sunken eyes, but he knew beyond a shout of a doubt that it had gotten worse. "How do you feel..?" He asked, unsure.

Jameson slowly turned to him, his jaw set, and his eyebrows furrowed. "That's not what I meant, idiot. Don't make me regret asking for your help."

"Okay, fine. Why won't you let me--"

"Because I've already told you, and Henrik. But you don't seem to understand." He took a swig of his drink. "I don't need any fancy equipment to keep my immune system strong."

Sean made a face, wanting to rip the glass right from Jameson and shake him. He didn't understand why someone so young would want to throw away their life. He knew Jameson was set in his ways, and very old school, but was he really going to clean up his house and invite Death in like they were friends?

"But, you're killing yourself..."

"I'm not killing myself! See?" A smile stretched across Jameson's face.

Sean could feel himself shatter on the inside. His heart ached. He hadn't seen his brother smile like that in a long time, and even though he could see the pain floating in the stormy sea of those grayish-blue eyes of his, Sean couldn't help but feel a spark of hope, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Okay. I believe you, but that doesn't mean I won't keep trying. Do you understand? And don't take too many of that Aspirin at once. It could kill you." Sean gave Jameson a brief hug before leaving the club out the backdoor.

He didn't understand the feeling of dread twisting in the pit of his stomach, but he had to push it aside. He had to.

Jameson watched him leave, dropping his smile and turning back to the empty glass in his hands. He knew Sean was grasping at straws, and Jameson didn't want to dim what was left of his optimism. The only problem was, his situation had gotten worse, and it felt like only dumb luck, or by the grace of God that he was still ticking.

Jameson suddenly tensed. He hastily pulled out his handkerchief, coughing and gasping as he held it to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, tasting something he was all too familiar with—his blood. His other hand wrapped around the pocket watch in his vest cavity.

For some reason, the cold metal gave him comfort, and he could feel the ticks against his palm. Question was... How long until his ticks ran out?