who: koga oogami + close cr. when: between july 7th and july 20th ig. where: rei sakuma's room. what: koga's vampiristic death approaches. warnings: death?? and blood, and sad times.
[ he had been greatly opposed to it, at first. the coven was annoying in its own way, and he missed the comfort of his room, but being signed off by his senpai and dragged against his will to their house was more than enough to piss him off — the fact he was given not only rei's room, but rei's coffin, and the fact being in it brought him much more comfort than a normal bed did infuriated him beyond words. he yelled and complained as much as he could the first days, but koga was still far too sick, far too weak to bring about much of a fight.
so he complies, of course. being watched at all times is hardly koga's favorite choice, but the company is appreciated. he sleeps most of the day, stays awake at night doing much of nothing; when the opportunity is there, it's almost like home, the way he yells and scolds rei for not taking care of himself. they feed him food koga doesn't throw up, but his weight hardly seems to be improving. it gives him some strength, enough to exercise his legs around the house (likely, too, always under rei's watch).
but his condition worsens by the day.
even when the full moon comes and goes, there is little he can do, even as a bat. there is no strength in his little body to spread his wings and fly; the entire night, he spends at his senpai's mercy, resting in a coffin too big for him with the reassurance that the blood he is given isn't human.
(koga is far, far too weak to even begin doubting rei and kaoru.)
when the clock is past midnight and he's allowed a human body again, he thinks how ironic it is, that he currently lays in a coffin. almost as though this is all staged, and it's no wonder he belongs there so comfortably. the movements he's allowed are limited and few, but just about enough that he can sit with much effort and eye the room. rei isn't asleep. he isn't asleep, even though he should, even though this is the one time koga wishes he were.
so maybe he wouldn't have to look at this him anymore. so maybe he could finally be freed of this torture, that hurts both of them far too deeply.
it takes one, two, three, four tries until koga finds voice to speak, until his own body permits him some sign of life. ]
Hakaze-senpai will be mad if he finds ya still awake. Spare him more trouble and go rest yourself.
[ hakaze-senpai, not him, despite how this births from his own concerns, his own anxieties. because he knows what could happen any moment now, because he knows this is the one thing he would never want rei to live through. because he doesn't want this to be something he'll regret for the rest of his life. ]
( the things the heir should know include this: the major arteries and their path to the heart; for more clean removals, the veins; how to, if needed, store blood so it’s healthy; the needles best used, failing fangs. it’s not necessary information. they don’t sit down at the table to drink blood, nor do they carve skin off human bones, nor do they spend sabbath days desecrating. it’s prideful, silly knowledge. it’s worth as much as paintings of past heirs over the mantle.
daily, he ties a band around his arm and takes a needle to it. the weather’s made him a little more sluggish, so he draws sometimes too much without catching on quick enough. he makes this excess his new minimum. every other day, the minimum goes up. the weather is getting colder, so he has good excuse to hide the bruises all along his arms with longer sleeves. if his veins blow out, he’ll use arteries, but he’d rather he didn’t; he doesn’t like needles very much.
koga is going to die. he has books brought to his room from the library, and he’s always reading them these days. he’s a little dizzy from the lack of blood and lack of sleep, and the letters on the page sometimes reform themselves to spell this out. koga is going to die; he isn’t getting any better. vampires come back, but maybe not. maybe not always. maybe not sometimes. there are potions and remedies that promise to better the chances, but not very many, since vampires aren’t too popular at all. usually they come in the form of plants, but there are talismans and trinkets that promise about the same. you won’t know if it’s worked until after they pass.
not pass— die. he repeats that in his head, like torturing himself. he failed somewhere, and that’s why koga’s here, like this.
when koga’s just a little bat, leon curls around him. when leon stands to drag rei from his books to the coffin, rei, so tentative, picks koga up, and holds him against his chest. his heart beats rarely.
he hadn’t thought very much at all since koga’s condition began to spiral, and he doesn’t start now. quiet spectres of emotion pass through the hollow caverns of his chest, too faint for him to name, and he carries on turning pages with koga there against him, counting the seconds between koga’s breaths. slow; too slow; slower still.
he understands he’s in a state sort of how he used to be before, half dead and not fully alive; but right now, like koga, he feels closer to dead— or would that be an insult to say? koga’s the one who doesn’t seem he’ll make it through the night. what has rei done to help? what’s left that he can do? how sweet of him to say he’d protect undead—that he’d protect koga—when he fully lacks the talent.
he sets koga back down in the coffin only to change the water for one of the several crimson greens in the room, its leaves hanging down like outstretched hands, and by then the full moon is waning. rei’s not a genuinely superstitious type, nor is he one often to buy into scams, but if the salesmen say these charms can do koga some good, they’re doing much better than rei.
he’s reading again beside the coffin when koga’s voice, so uncomfortably slight, startles rei with a noticeable jolt. he looks up. he holds his gaze there, on koga, and counts how much further along the spectrum of pale koga’s skin has gotten compared to when he’d last glanced at him, and he counts again the seconds between koga’s breaths. slower, even still. )
... Is this not what we call “the pot calling the kettle black”...? ( he raises a hand, and places it lightly against koga’s shoulder. lie down, lie down. ) If you save your energy, perhaps we’ll have a deal.
( irritating koga is normally a delight, but now it’s only a waste of koga’s breath. he’s too brittle; he has to be careful; rei has to think faster than this. )
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@ rei.
so he complies, of course. being watched at all times is hardly koga's favorite choice, but the company is appreciated. he sleeps most of the day, stays awake at night doing much of nothing; when the opportunity is there, it's almost like home, the way he yells and scolds rei for not taking care of himself. they feed him food koga doesn't throw up, but his weight hardly seems to be improving. it gives him some strength, enough to exercise his legs around the house (likely, too, always under rei's watch).
but his condition worsens by the day.
even when the full moon comes and goes, there is little he can do, even as a bat. there is no strength in his little body to spread his wings and fly; the entire night, he spends at his senpai's mercy, resting in a coffin too big for him with the reassurance that the blood he is given isn't human.
(koga is far, far too weak to even begin doubting rei and kaoru.)
when the clock is past midnight and he's allowed a human body again, he thinks how ironic it is, that he currently lays in a coffin. almost as though this is all staged, and it's no wonder he belongs there so comfortably. the movements he's allowed are limited and few, but just about enough that he can sit with much effort and eye the room. rei isn't asleep. he isn't asleep, even though he should, even though this is the one time koga wishes he were.
so maybe he wouldn't have to look at this him anymore. so maybe he could finally be freed of this torture, that hurts both of them far too deeply.
it takes one, two, three, four tries until koga finds voice to speak, until his own body permits him some sign of life. ]
Hakaze-senpai will be mad if he finds ya still awake. Spare him more trouble and go rest yourself.
[ hakaze-senpai, not him, despite how this births from his own concerns, his own anxieties. because he knows what could happen any moment now, because he knows this is the one thing he would never want rei to live through. because he doesn't want this to be something he'll regret for the rest of his life. ]
no subject
daily, he ties a band around his arm and takes a needle to it. the weather’s made him a little more sluggish, so he draws sometimes too much without catching on quick enough. he makes this excess his new minimum. every other day, the minimum goes up. the weather is getting colder, so he has good excuse to hide the bruises all along his arms with longer sleeves. if his veins blow out, he’ll use arteries, but he’d rather he didn’t; he doesn’t like needles very much.
koga is going to die. he has books brought to his room from the library, and he’s always reading them these days. he’s a little dizzy from the lack of blood and lack of sleep, and the letters on the page sometimes reform themselves to spell this out. koga is going to die; he isn’t getting any better. vampires come back, but maybe not. maybe not always. maybe not sometimes. there are potions and remedies that promise to better the chances, but not very many, since vampires aren’t too popular at all. usually they come in the form of plants, but there are talismans and trinkets that promise about the same. you won’t know if it’s worked until after they pass.
not pass— die. he repeats that in his head, like torturing himself. he failed somewhere, and that’s why koga’s here, like this.
when koga’s just a little bat, leon curls around him. when leon stands to drag rei from his books to the coffin, rei, so tentative, picks koga up, and holds him against his chest. his heart beats rarely.
he hadn’t thought very much at all since koga’s condition began to spiral, and he doesn’t start now. quiet spectres of emotion pass through the hollow caverns of his chest, too faint for him to name, and he carries on turning pages with koga there against him, counting the seconds between koga’s breaths. slow; too slow; slower still.
he understands he’s in a state sort of how he used to be before, half dead and not fully alive; but right now, like koga, he feels closer to dead— or would that be an insult to say? koga’s the one who doesn’t seem he’ll make it through the night. what has rei done to help? what’s left that he can do? how sweet of him to say he’d protect undead—that he’d protect koga—when he fully lacks the talent.
he sets koga back down in the coffin only to change the water for one of the several crimson greens in the room, its leaves hanging down like outstretched hands, and by then the full moon is waning. rei’s not a genuinely superstitious type, nor is he one often to buy into scams, but if the salesmen say these charms can do koga some good, they’re doing much better than rei.
he’s reading again beside the coffin when koga’s voice, so uncomfortably slight, startles rei with a noticeable jolt. he looks up. he holds his gaze there, on koga, and counts how much further along the spectrum of pale koga’s skin has gotten compared to when he’d last glanced at him, and he counts again the seconds between koga’s breaths. slower, even still. )
... Is this not what we call “the pot calling the kettle black”...? ( he raises a hand, and places it lightly against koga’s shoulder. lie down, lie down. ) If you save your energy, perhaps we’ll have a deal.
( irritating koga is normally a delight, but now it’s only a waste of koga’s breath. he’s too brittle; he has to be careful; rei has to think faster than this. )