Worlds Apart

And as Eros yelled and shouted at him, even as he tightened the ropes, the only reaction Nico gave was a smirk. He could have yelled back at him in response, but there wasn't a need to. Anything he said would have just gone into deaf ears anyway; Eros wasn't prepared to accept his stance or newfound beliefs, so yelling until his throat was raw about it to convince him was just useless. Instead, he was happy to sit back and watch the other have a meltdown before his eyes, smirking more and more at his clear anger.

"Punch me. Do it. I'm not stopping you, am I? i'd happily punch your face in if the situations were reversed. I deserve it too, don't I? I've done nothing wrong, Eros. Absolutely nothing wrong, but you seem to think I'm some crazed lunatic, so punch me; knock my lights out. I'm sure you'd feel safer if I was unconscious," he drawled with the same smug smile on his face, clenching his fists together as best he could in the effort to cut into his palms again. That way, he could focus on that pain and not the pain of the ropes aggravating his skin painfully. It wasn't fun being bound this tightly, especially when it made him feel completely useless and weak as a result.

"Stop being fucking dramatic. I'm not your little buddy anymore; I'm not going to snap back into the guy you think you knew. This is all pointless and you're just signing your death warrant-- you don't think they'll come to kill you? You really think a few books is gonna give you all the info you need to take down five vampires? You're being an idiot, Eros."
 
"I've got plans on how to keep you away from them." He said flatly, his eyes eventually straying to the road before lighting another cigarette, sighing as he did. He knew the habit was bad and started up as a social thing when a friend suggested it to him at the outside of a The Awakening concert. It only took a single inhale for him to get hooked and he did regret them deeply. He started up the car again, his anger subsiding as he did.

"I'll play music but we're listening to what I want," he flatly decided, skimming through his Spotify to play his playlist. While a handful of it was Metal, some calmer Gothic and Punk music was sprinkled in. He knew Nico hated it, even back when they were younger, though his choice in music was something he took seriously. "I won't punch your face in. Now do you eat anything other than human flesh?"
 
Even though he head his heart set on becoming like his 'family', and had gone as far as to adopt their eating habits, Nico wasn't so invested yet that he shunned all other forms of food. He had tried to do it for a few months, only to grow sick. With their urges, he reluctantly had to have a diet that consisted of normal food too, yet, even if he wanted to ask for something sweet, he refused to do so.

He wasn't going to accept any help, however hungry he was. If he had to starve himself until his family eventually found him, he gladly would.

"Of course I don't, I'm not a vampire yet, am I?" He remarked with a faint grin, easing his shoulders back to try and get as comfortable as he could. "I've dabbled with raw animal meat, it's not as bad as you'd think. Nothing quite like hunting down a deer and tearing it apart without fussing about, cooking it. Makes me pretty sick, but it's worth it."
 
“What do you like to eat outside of raw animal flesh?” He questioned flatly, grimacing at the idea. He had gone vegan for a hot minute during his freshman year of college though changed eventually and, while he still ate meat as was evident by the chicken nugget box, he felt guilty. To the point where he didn’t wear anything with hooves like beef or pork.

“I don’t want you to starve to death. That’s a stupid way to die.” He stated simply. “You didn’t look too excited for McDonald’s so I figure that’s out. You’re incredibly thin, do you eat vegetables or whatever? Like... seriously, I don’t remember you being this tiny.”
 
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"His brother was smaller than I was, I had to look like him. It's not a big deal," he reported with a roll of his eyes, as though that in itself was perfectly okay. He hadn't chosen to lose so much weight and muscle mass by choice. Sure, he fed into the belief that he had to do so, but it hadn't originally been his idea, nor had he just shunned food to be like the others. If it hadn't been forced on him to stick to a strict schedule, he wouldn't have done so. Instead, he barely ate anything other than what his family ate, and when it often always made him vomit, losing weight was inevitable. When he was forced to eat something else, just to keep his energy up, it wasn't anything particularly calorific either.

Yet, that was the whole idea. The leader wanted him to look as much like his lost brother as he could. It didn't remotely matter that Nico had gone through hell over five years, often going to sleep on an empty stomach, or just lacking the energy to get out of bed in the mornings. The only thing he could do was look forward to the day he was turned, knowing then that the food and blood his family ate would at least taste good to him.

It was also why he was shunning the idea of eating something more suited to his current tastes. It would just feel like he was betraying his family and their beliefs on what he should be doing. He couldn't return and look them in the eye if he knew he had eaten a burger and fries.

"...It's none of your business how much I weigh, is it? It's fine, it's the plan. I'm doing what I need to," he mumbled, grimacing to himself at the familiar pain in his stomach. He could ignore it, but it became difficult to do so when the entire conversation revolved around food. "I want some water. Maybe some juice. I'm allowed juice, if it's no added sugar."
 
“You’re allowed to eat whatever you want,” he corrected, hiding his horror well. “You’re an adult, Nico. If you want juice with sugar in it or a burger or something, you can do whatever you want. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you genuinely enjoy not making choices of your own? That just... blows my mind. You shouldn't have to listen to whatever he has to say, Nico."

Exhaling deeply, he glanced down at his phone's GPS. The fact that the fastest route was still so many hours, hours of which he had to deal with Nico with his strange ramblings and whatnot. He wanted nothing more than to knock the other out again and just have some quiet for a little bit to be able to vent quietly to himself. He couldn't, though, unfortunately.

Instead he turned the music up louder, the drawl of the singer's voice followed by strange synth music in the background drowning the car, that of which he still felt bad for having blood splattered about. "You should take a nap."
 
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"Why? So you don't have to hear me say stuff you take offence to? You want to shut me up? I'm sure you could give me a good whack on the head again, it worked for you last time," he muttered, glancing in the wing mirror of the car to frown at the large bruise on his forehead. He was accustomed to getting bruised and injured during the 'hunts' he attended, but he had never once been knocked out before. He knew it wasn't his fault and he couldn't have prevented it, but he still felt ridiculous about it.

None of his family would have been knocked out, yet, once again, he was proven to be the most vulnerable.

It didn't take long for him to drift asleep, despite how desperately he wanted to stay awake, in case an opportunity came along for him to make an escape. Instead, he fell asleep - a fact he was furious with himself for when he woke hours later, back in Mississippi. It was the first time he had been home since his disappearance five years ago, and he wasn't really filled with joy at being back. If anything, he woke with a grimace upon realising where he was, groggily squinting to make out the house they were parked in front of.

"...We're not back in Mississippi, are we?" He asked slowly, his eyes narrowed in anger. "F-Fucking... You fucking bastard."
 
“Where did you expect me to take you?” He responded with a yawn as he carefully drove into their town. A pack of cigarettes and a few stops for coffee later and zeros had managed to get to his destination without swerving off the road once.

He spent the hours mostly listening to his music, making sure to keep the metal to a minimum, and rolled down the window to take it in. He loved to just drive his car around on cool nights with friends, blasting music, and it was exactly what he had done. It was only when the sun began to rise that he really came to remember what he was doing.

“We’re staying at my place,” he announced as he pulled up to the small home. It was a whole house for rent so it was essentially an apartment despite its tiny size. It was home and it wasn’t too far from his parents so it worked perfectly. So, nervously glancing around to make sure no one was up yet, he easily helped Nico out of the car and unlocked his home to expose what one would think his home would look like.

Two walls in the living room were solely dedicated to books, while some were English writings he had grown curious about during discussions with his professors, a large lump were all on the occult. The room was dark, with black furniture and multiple candles ready to be lit. It was small and cozy and there was no where else he’d rather live.
 
Being back in Abbeville was far from ideal for him. It wasn't because he was afraid he'd feel guilt and remorse over his actions, but ore because he didn't want to be reminded of the life he had left behind and wanted so desperately to forget. Sure, the sight of his childhood home just down the quiet street made him smile briefly, but it also provided him with memories of his life before the cult. He didn't need those memories clogging his head, which only made him grimace angrily to himself.

"What now? Are you going to keep me here until I start blubbering and begging forgiveness?" He murmured with genuine curiosity, his eyes wide and awake by now. "Because you'll be waiting a long time for that. It was dumb to bring me back here. I assume my... those boys that called me their brother; I assume they're still living here? It isn't wise to bring me back around the people I meant to kill but failed to; it's basically giving me another chance to finish what I started, Eros."
 
“They don’t live here anymore, no. They went to live with your grandparents and I haven’t heard of them since,” he admitted as he locked the door properly, three locks in total. He wasn’t typically paranoid but he had planned to be attacked when finally getting Nico home so prepared for that.

“What we’re going to do is I’m going to have the deprogrammer come over and, well, put some logic in you. This is all ridiculous. I just - how did that man give you more of s sense of family than I did?” He eventually questioned as he led the other to the couch before leaving briefly, returning with handcuffs instead. Holding the other ‘s arms incredibly firmly, he undid the rope before tugging Nico’s arms back for him to lock them in the handcuffs behind his back.
 
Spending literal hours tied up wasn't a pleasant experience, so the small amount of freedom he had from being restricted was a blessing - even if it lasted a second or two before he was restrained and then had handcuffs placed on him. He didn't imagine he'd ever convince the other to let him had freedom, given the threats he had already promised he would enact upon, but he knew he could always fake remorse later on. Once the deprogrammer talked to him, he could easily feign understanding. He didn't for one moment imagine he'd be affected by whatever the professional had to say, after all.

"Do what you want. If this is how you want to spend the last few days of your life, Eros, go for it," he shrugged, resting back against the couch, at least thankful for the ability to rest his feet out and have some comfort... even if he found the situation ridiculously stressful. He wanted to scream for help, play the victim, but when everyone in Abbeville usually stayed in the town until they died, he knew better than to attract the attention of passersby who would not only recognise him, but remember the crimes he had committed, and they would be far less willing to help him than Eros was.

"Until your buddy pops over to 'help' me, what am I supposed to do? Listen to you whine about how 'crazy' I am?"
 
“Watch television, listen to music, talk to me... I’m willing to talk to you about things, Nico, as long as it isn’t about your killer friends. You’ve changed a lot though I guess I have too. I want to know like... what you do for fun and some positive stories that don’t involve you killing someone,” he admitted before walking over to a chair adjacent to the couch where his laptop was rested.

“I have to do my school work, since I decided to get a proper education and graduate. You could still get your GED, you know. You were pretty smart back in school,” he suggested before getting back to his feet, deciding to get them both a glass of water. “I won’t introduce you to my friends since I assume you’ll sick your buddies on them and they don’t deserve to get involved.”
 
"I can't watch television, I'm not allowed. It melts your brain," he remarked with a roll of hsi eyes, which then shut to avoid taking in the modern items in the room and to make it clear that he'd rather sit in silence than communicate and pretend that this was a normal situation that allowed normal conversations.

Back home with his 'family', the only really modern items they had was the cars, only because it made travelling and hunting easier. Other than that, the house was bare from all sorts of modern appliances. There wasn't a television, phones or laptops, only because the leader detested them. He'd rather live like he did when his siblings were all alive, so now he felt he had a family again, he wanted to live with them like he had his real siblings, and that meant shunning most aspects of modern life.

However difficult it was, Nico wanted to abide by the rules that had been indoctrinated in him, and, for an hour or so, he managed to stay sat with his eyes closed, avoiding talking to Eros and avoiding the TV. It was impossible not to listen along, but he figured actively sitting there watching it would be far worse.

Eventually, he caved in, mostly when the familiar tune of Friends kicked in. He hadn't watched it since he was 16, and he hadn't planned to ever watch it again, because he didn't think he'd be in a situation where a TV was blaring in front of him. However, with the situation now unavoidable, and with the show being one of his favourites, his eyes did peek open to take it in. a brief smile on his face the more of it he watched.

"...I'm not an asshole, Eros. I just have different beliefs," he mumbled eventually, though his eyes remained glued on the television screen. "I do normal stuff with my family. We go fishing, we hunt, we make pottery-- I even learned how to sew. It's not... like I live in depravity; we're not monsters."
 
He was content with the silence, the quiet sound of keys clicking alongside the television. Looking up when Nico finally started to speak, he adjusted himself and offered an entertained smirk to see his former friend enjoy his former favorite show. He never really got invested in it, dramatically saying that the canned laughter gave him a headache.

"Pottery sounds fun," he admitted. "Not so much the hunting. I mean, sounds a bit too... intense, I guess. I could always take you to the pottery studio they have in Jackson if you want. Do you at least read? I would get so bored if there was no real mental stimulation," he insisted before saving his paper, carefully closing the laptop with a soft yawn. "They have Friends on Netflix so we could watch the whole series if you wanted. You know how much I love this show."
 
For a very brief, fleeting moment, Nico did perk up at the mention of not just the offer of pottery classes, but the idea that he could sit and watch his favourite show again from start to end. He had no idea what Netflix really was, having only heard it briefly from victims he and his family had stalked, but he decided (momentarily) that he liked it if it enabled him to watch Friends non-stop.

Inevitably, his better judgement kicked in, scowling to himself at the moment of weakness he had displayed. If his family caught him enjoying something as simple as TV, it would take a lot of begging to win them back around, and he didn't really want to have any of them angry at him. Instead, he turned his head away defiantly, struggling with his handcuffs in a vague attempt to ease them off. He knew he couldn't, but he had to try, even if he ended up dislocating or breaking his wrists in the process.

At least those injuries would show his family his determination as he had tried his best to escape back to them.

"Fuck off, I don't want to be here-- and I won't be for much longer when they come to find me. This will be the first place they look, you must know that. They were here when I killed my parents; they know where I'm from. You'll be dead by the end of the week, Eros. Stop wasting your time talking to me."
 
“I’m not going to die, don’t be dramatic,” he replied, making no motion to turn the television off. “Why won’t you just admit that you enjoy television? You’re an adult, you’re allowed to like things your cult doesn’t. It’s called freedom, though I guess you don’t like that anymore,” he coldly commented before deciding to light a candle upon realizing his house probably smelled like cigarettes. He’d rather it smell like vanilla any day.

“You’re missing out on life, Nico. I want to be able to have fun with you, you know? We could go and play soccer again - I’ve gotten a lot stronger since school. I would love to take you to a cute donut shop that opened up down the way, treat you to some coffee. I just want you to realize there’s more than just the weird, isolated life you’re living. I mean, I couldn’t look as good as I do if I just lived out in the woods,” he murmured with a cocky smirk before taking a seat.
 
"I don't want to have fun with you. You're nothing to me; you're not anything to anyone. You and everyone else on this fucking rock are irrelevant to me. Besides my family, obviously. They taught me how to live my life properly. Considering I'll be immortal soon, I don't think I'm wasting my life. I have centuries ahead of me to do what I want," he shrugged, his fists clenched tightly behind him at the smirks and constant reminder that, somehow, the way he was living wasn't fulfilling, or 'right'. It pissed him off entirely, and more so when he realised he couldn't even do anything to show that, other than glare angrily.

That wasn't as good as punching the lights out of his former friend, but it was all he could really do.

"Of course you'll be dead. You don't think they'll drink you dry? You don't think I'll be tucking into your liver in a week or so? You're naive if you think you can get away from all this unscathed, you piece of shit. You're a dead man walking, get used to it."
 
“I think I can handle it,” he reassured casually keeping his eyes on the television with another yawn. He became a pro at hiding his emotions when he needed to and it didn’t take a genius to realize his indifference to the situation was furnishing to Nico. It felt nice to have a bit of power for once.

“You can believe what you want to believe. I know you don’t care anymore, it was pretty evident by the way you just dropped me suddenly without warning. No one matters to you but yourself and your family. Ugh. If I’m gonna be honest here, there’s nothing more I’d rather do than bash your ‘brother’’s skull in.”
 
"Clearly you weren't that important to me. One of my sisters told her boyfriend before she left. One of my brothers messaged his cousins apologising for his absence. I couldn't wait to get away from you. Did you cry about it? Did you get all depressed that I abandoned you without a second's thought? I'd do it again in a heartbeat, you aren't shit to me. Never have been," he remarked easily, wriggling his toes to try and get some feeling back in his feet, which had gone numb in the long hours of not moving them in the car. He was aware that he was fabricating the truth. He didn't remember how he felt about Eros, having long since forced such feelings to the back of his head, but he remembered how his siblings would boast about how easily they abandoned their families. Not one of them informed anyone of their departures, but manipulating that truth for his own gain here was the only thing he could do to try and get a reaction.

He'd much rather be yelled at and punched than be dealt the nonchalance.

"I want a bath," he declared, trying to adjust his position to get on his feet. They weren't restrained or tied, but it wasn't easy finding the strength to use them when he was a) exhausted, and b) lacking energy from such a poor diet. "I'm not going to slip out of the window and break my neck on the ground below, I'm not an idiot. I just want a bath."
 
“I’d like to think otherwise,” he admitted, taking his phone out briefly to quickly text a friend - one who was almost done with their psychology degree. He teased that she was essentially his free therapist and he needed someone to vent to desperately. After a heavy sigh, he got to his feet reluctantly.

“Why, do you not have plumbing in bumfuck nowhere?” He questioned flatly as he moved to help Nico to his feet. “I mean, if you refuse to adapt to modern society and whatnot. Wouldn’t be surprised if vampires didn’t bathe themselves, they probably don’t have to. Unfortunately for you, you are far from a vampire,” he commented, venom lining his words.