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This is the longest that Lee has ever gone without Eating. He isn't sure why he's doing this to himself. Well, that's a lie. He knows damn well why, and he also knows, deep down, that it's futile.

He hasn't seen George in two days, told him he wasn't feeling well and needed some time to himself. Which is true, he supposes. He wants so badly to never have to lie to George, and there it is. That's the reason.

Eating has always been a difficult thing, no matter how good it feels in the moment. Now the thought of luring someone into some shadowy alley and ending their life just so his can continue makes him feel sick. He can't put his hands on someone, seduce them into a false sense of security, and then go look George in the eye with their meat in his belly. He just can't.

But he can't let go of George, either. Even though that would probably be wisest. Safest. It would be what's best for George, but Lee thinks about breaking his heart and he just can't. He can't Eat, can't face George, can't leave George, can't sleep and can't think about anything other than how hungry he is. He's stuck and he has no idea what to do.

He glances at himself in the mirror in the bathroom at his nearly empty apartment, noting that he looks sallow, more gaunt than usual. His eyes are so dark that they're almost black, lips pale and chapped. His jaw aches from how much he's been grinding his teeth. His belly aches with hunger, his blood burns, his mind races.

This isn't sustainable, but he has no idea what to do. He has to Eat or bad things will happen. But Lee is the bad thing that will happen. He's always the bad thing that happens.

He lets out a frustrated snarl and slams his palm into his own reflection, splintering the mirror until he can't make out his own face anymore. His palm is sliced open when he pulls it back but his blood is dark and sluggish. Unhealthy.

He leaves the apartment so he stops pacing a track into the carpet like a caged animal, wondering if maybe fresh air will help. He puts on one of George's hoodies and feels like he's drowning in it, like his skin is stretched tight over his bones. Earlier that afternoon he ate four double cheeseburgers and it didn't even make a dent in his hunger. It isn't what he needs, and Lee is so frustrated that tears spring to his eyes.

He finds himself cutting through Petros Park in the crisp fall air, breathing in deep, but the walk doesn't help. Each step makes him feel weaker and he stops in the middle of the path to pinch the bridge of his nose, waiting out a rush of dizziness as his stomach clenches.

It's been weeks. It feels like he's going insane. It feels like he's dying.

But he thinks of George's sweet, trusting face, and he wants to keep trying.

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"Hello," he says. Lee looks terrible, and George reaches out without thinking, fingers curling around Lee's bicep and squeezing. "I was just coming over to check on you. You don't look like you ought to be out of bed, love."

"You were?" Lee asks, though he isn't sure why he's surprised. He thought that maybe George would be cross with him for ignoring him for two days, but he isn't. He looks concerned, big doe eyes trained on Lee's face, and Lee stares back at him. He can smell the chicken soup in George's hand and he wants to weep. Because all he wants to do is keep this.

But then George reaches for him and his scent hits Lee's nose and he feels his teeth itch as his hindbrain urges him to Eat, Eat, Eat, so he knows that he can't. George deserves so much better than someone who instinctively wants to fucking eat him.

"Yeah, I'm not doin' too hot. Thought some air might help," he croaks out, gently easing his arm away and shuffling back a step. "I-- I don't want to get you sick."

George can't help the frown that flickers across his face, but he doesn't like it when Lee steps away from him, almost recoils.

"Do you imagine i care about that?" he asks, his voice gentle. "Even a little bit?" He steps in again, reaching for Lee with his free hand. "Let me take care of you. I'm not well practised, I'll admit, but I'll do my best."

George's mouth turns down into a frown that makes Lee feel like he just kicked a puppy into oncoming traffic. He doesn't want to upset George at all, in any way, and Lee is now realizing that he missed the window for that by a long mile. The only way to have done that would have been to cut this off as soon as he realized that either of them had started to develop actual feelings, but Lee didn't do that. Because he's selfish.

Even now he's selfish, because he knows that he should break this off right now. He should set George on his way, make him hate Lee enough that the hurt passes quicker, but he just can't. George's voice is so tender and his grip is gentle where his hand closes around Lee's bicep, and Lee wants to sob because all he's ever wanted was to be loved. He didn't know that it would make him feel like even more of a monster.

"George," he grits out, tears springing to his eyes in a way that he's too tired to be embarrassed about. His breath hitches and he slumps forward, shuddering as he buries his face in George's shoulder. "I don't deserve you."

Lee leans in against him and George wraps one arm around his waist, tugging him closer. He might be imagining things, but he's sure the other man feels thinner, somehow, even though it's only been a couple of days. "And yet, you have me all the same," he teases, gently, his lips brushing the side of Lee's face. "Come. Let's get you home?"

"I already am," Lee murmurs against George's neck, arms wrapped around his waist. He's at war with his body and his mind, but being held by George after going days without gives him a moment's peace and he clings to it, willing himself not to fucking think for just a few moments. Eventually he pulls back and takes a step towards George's apartment, away from his own, because he doesn't like it there. He wants to be in George's bed. Their bed.

But it's dangerous, even though Lee would eat his own arm off before hurting George. It's simply prolonging the inevitable, and Lee knows what he has a choice to make. Come to terms with lying to George and hiding a terrible part of himself forever, or tell George the truth and lose him entirely. There's a third option, one where George learns the truth and stays, but Lee can't bring himself to even entertain it.

He heaves a breath and rubs at his eyes, knowing that they look bruised with dark circles, then rubs them again after spotting something between two trees up ahead. There's a black cat sitting here staring at them, and Lee tilts his head at the unsettling look of the thing. The air around it seems to shimmer and Lee takes a step toward it without thinking much about it. "Do you see that cat?"

"I see it," says George, watching as Lee takes a step forward, and then following him, the bag with the container of soup still hanging from his hand. "Listen, love, I still think that we should be going back to the apartment. You don't look steady on your feet, and..."

Lee keeps walking, and George has got no choice but to follow.

Edited 2025-10-15 20:15 (UTC)

"No, I know. It's just--" The cat is staring at him and Lee swears that it can see into the core of him somehow. It irritates him, and his head is swimming enough that he just wants it to stop, so he stumbles forward between the two trees to chase it off. The cat darts off with a trilling meow that sounds more like a laugh, and then Lee's belly swoops and he is suddenly very cold. It's dark, like a veil has been pulled over his eyes, and he wonders if maybe he's in the midst of fainting. He's never fainted before, but he thought it would go faster than this.

He takes another two steps into the dark and then falls to one knee, swallowing hard and pounding a fist into the grass. "Fuck. I'm okay."

Everything shifts, shades darker but, before George can react to it, Lee falls, his knee hitting hard, and George drops the bag in his hand, and darts forward, kneeling beside him. "Come on," he says, finally. "Home. I..." Somewhere, off in the distance, someone -- or something -- screeches. George's head snaps to the side, his eyes suddenly wide.

“Ugh.” Lee’s stomach growls and then clenches so fiercely that his whole body jolts, and a shudder runs through him. His teeth itch and he clenches his jaw, scrubbing a hand over his face and shifting to sit back on his heels.

He hears the screech but it’s George going deathly still beside him that catches Lee’s attention, making him finally open his eyes and look around. They’re still in Petros Park but everything is different. It’s dark, but not just like it’s a moonless night. It’s dark like there’s never been any sun at all.

The trees and plants and grass are all dead, withered and dry with leaves and twigs crunching under his knees as he shifts to curl his arm around George’s waist almost instinctively, clutching at him as he looks around.

“What— what did I do?” He asks quietly, voice trembling as he takes in their new surroundings. “What happened?”

Edited 2025-10-15 20:53 (UTC)

"I don't think it was you," says George, everything about his posture staying watchful his hand on Lee's shoulder. The noise comes again, and George's hand tightens, his fingers gripping Lee for a moment. "Can you get up, love?" he says, his voice low. "I think we need to move."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good," Lee grits out, huffing a breath and getting to his feet. Their current situation and the realization that George may be in danger gives him a burst of adrenaline and he swallows hard, keeping one hand twisted in the back of George's sweater as he looks around. "What the fuck."

There's another screech and Lee goes ramrod straight as the hair on the back of his neck stands up in a way that it only does around other predators like him, other Eaters back home and vampires here. Whatever is making that sound, it's high up on the food chain.

"We need to find cover," he tells George, taking his hand and leading him down a well worn desire trail that cuts through the trees. This is still the park, so structures should be the same, right? "There's a storage shed up here somewhere."

It's colder than it was minutes before and, even with layers on, George shivers. Although, perhaps, it doesn't really have anything to do with the chill in the air. Lee takes his hand and starts moving, and George goes with him. Of course he does. "There is. I remember." He looks over his shoulder again. "What the hell is this? Witchcraft?"

Whatever's happening, they're clearly not in Darrow proper anymore.

"You think everything is witchcraft," Lee huffs out, frustrated but not dismissive or unkind. Maybe it is witchcraft. Maybe all of it is. Lee has no idea, and it's fucking infuriating. He doesn't have the energy to deal with this right now. "Darrow likes to play tricks."

They get to the small wooden shed but the door is locked, so Lee huffs and pulls the cuff of his sleeve over his fist, nudging George back a bit with his shoulder before gritting his teeth and punching through the glass window in the door. It shatters and Lee reaches through to unlock it, then ushers George inside before following after and pulling the door shut just as he hears another shriek. This time he hears what sounds like the flapping of giant wings and his eyes widen but he doesn't mention it, just in case George hadn't heard it.

"Okay," he says once they're inside, dragging his shaky hands through his limp curls and blinking owlishly. He's so hungry and exhausted that it's become very hard to think. "We had to have gone through a door or something." He thinks of the cat and how it seemed to laugh at him, how the air around it seemed to shimmer, and how he had walked straight toward it, right between two unnaturally straight trees. Lee blinks and drops down onto an old wooden crate, eyes wide and sorrowful with the realization. "You followed me. It's all my fault."

All he was trying to do was keep George safe, and he failed.

"Don't do that," says George, looking down at him. There isn't room for him to sit on the crate beside Lee, so he drops down into a crouch in front of him, instead, head tilted to look him in the face. "I'd follow you anywhere. Whatever's happening -- whatever this is -- it isn't your fault, and at least we're in it together." He reaches out to take Lee's hand and brings it up, kissing the back of it. "We're alright."

George is, as always, wonderful and perfect and far more than Lee deserves. He'd been avoiding George, then led him here, and George is just staring up at him and kissing his shaky hand with those big honey eyes and Lee is just-- he's helpless. He wants George more than he's ever wanted anything in his entire life, and he's trying so hard. He's fighting his own biology like that might bring him closer to being someone that's worthy of George.

"It's gotten to a point that I honestly don't know what I would do without you," Lee admits, sounding a little afraid of the fact. It's dark in the shed and all Lee can make out are shadows, but his trembling hand still seems to find George's cheek in the darkness without any fumbling. "I'd do anything to stay in your life."

"You talk like I'm going somewhere," says George, Lee's hand still in his. He leans his cheek into Lee's hand, staying crouched where he is in front of him. "I'm not. I swear." He glances over his shoulder. "Do we...do we stay here? And hope for the best?"

It doesn't feel like much of a plan, from where he is.

Lee hopes that it's too dark for George to see how his expression sort of shatters at the promise. It's not one that Lee should allow him to make, not without having all of the information, but this isn't the right time to divulge it. Not that it ever will be the right time, but Lee knows that he has to tell George the truth once they get out of this. Because that, regardless of the consequences, is what George deserves-- the truth, and the freedom to make his own choices. And if that choice leads to George wanting nothing to do with him, well. At least he'll know what he did the right thing for once in his life. So, he'll do it. He has to. But first things first.

"No, we can't stay here," Lee says with a sigh, stroking his thumb over George's cheekbone. His hands are cold and shaky, but George doesn't pull away and Lee cherishes how that feels like he's watching grains of sand slip through an hourglass. "If there was one door, it stands to reason that there's another. We just have to find it." It sounds so simple, perhaps too simple, but that thought is cut short by a loud screeching just over the top of the shed, loud enough that dust rains down from the ceiling. "And stay alive long enough to do it."

He cups George's face in both his hands and leans in to press their foreheads together, breathing in the scent of him. Sure, it makes his teeth itch, but it's also the most calming thing in the world to him. He smells like home. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he says fiercely, kissing him firmly on the mouth. "I swear it."

George has, once or twice, been in genuine fear of his life, but never quite like this.There's a tremble in Lee's voice that makes anxiety spike through him but, for a moment, he stays there, his forehead resting against Lee's. He draws in a breath. Finds his courage.

"I trust you," he says, and means it. "And I can handle myself. If it comes to it."

“I know you can,” Lee says quickly, not wanting George to think that Lee thinks any differently. “I’m just— protective.” He smiles in the darkness and presses a lingering kiss to the center of George’s forehead. “And you are so, so precious to me.”

He kisses George on the forehead and then sits up, looking around and pulling his phone out of his pocket. No service, which isn’t very surprising, but the flashlight works and he shines it around the shed to look for anything they might be able to use as weapons.

“Well,” he says as he reaches over to lift a bag of gardening tools and set it between them, taking out a sharp looking handheld spade and another tool that looks a little like a barbecue fork. “It’s better than nothing.”

"I know both of those things," says George, calmed and settled by the double kiss to his forehead. He follows Lee's lead, turning on the flashlight on his own phone so that they can see what they're doing. He holds out his free hand for one of the weapons. He's best with a foil, obviously, but both things look workable, if it comes to it. He's not as dangerous as he thinks -- knows -- that Lee can be, but he isn't lying when he says he can hold his own. "Hopefully, we won't be here for too long."

“I really should have eaten something,” Lee murmurs to himself, because now certainly isn’t the best time to feel dizzy with hunger. He’s put them both in danger now, simply because he was trying so hard to be good. It feels like he can’t win.

He looks at George and feels his gaze drop to the vein in his neck. A little blood would make him feel better, even marginally, but he can’t ask for it without explaining why he needs it. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s not sure that he’d be able to stop himself right now. He can feel the monster clawing at the edges of his control, and the stressful situation certainly doesn’t help.

“If the city layout is the same,” he says as he gets to his feet, blinking owlishly and swallowing hard as he steadies himself. “There’s an army surplus store on the other side of the park. We could go there for supplies, look for doors on the way.”

Lee still doesn't look too steady on his feet, and George automatically reaches out with his free hand to steady him. "We can look for some food too," he says. "While we're moving." There's a bitter chill in the air, and he's glad that he pulled on a sweater with his jeans and boots this morning.

"Come on," he says. "I think I'll feel better moving."

Lee lets out a soft, bemused huff at that. They could stumble upon a full breakfast buffet and it wouldn’t do any good, not right now, but he simply nods.

He doesn’t want to move, but George does and Lee can’t deny him anything (except the truth, his brain supplies, which is not at all helpful). He puts the stabbiest looking tools from the gardening bag into the pocket of his sweatshirt and then nods, swallowing hard and wiping the sweat from his brow. It’s not until he does so that he realizes his hands are shaking, and it’s not from nerves.

“Okay, let’s head toward the south entrance. There’s a playground about halfway where we can take cover for a bit if we need.” He pauses and scrubs a hand over his pale, sweaty face. “I can’t believe that’s a sentence I just said.”

He's genuinely concerned about Lee now -- it's not just the weird, shifting light that's making him look sweaty and pale. He keeps one hand on him, and nods.

"We'll be alright," he says, because, honestly, he doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't know what else there is.