let the vampires in ( damon )

[Brett Garth]

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Paint coated Brett's hands as he gripped the steering wheel of his Honda Passport. He guided his ancient piece of shit car into the parking lot of the Atrium Mall. Spotting a space by the door, he eased in and killed the engine. Then he turned to raise an eyebrow at the figure slouched against the window in the passenger's seat.

There was something wrong with Damon Thorne.

And not in the usual, "Oh my god, he's a dude who wears eyeliner and paints his nails" sense.

Damon hadn't said a word the entire car ride. Not even when Brett sent him a text message. That one was exceedingly surprising for two reasons. One, Brett was putting both of their lives in danger by doing so. Two, Damon was sitting right next to him. Brett was sure pulling a stunt like that would get a rise of his roomie, but no. He was stoic as a statue, gazing out the window with glassy eyes.

Only once before had Brett seen Damon like this.

Christmas day. His mother had sent him a card with an old family photo. By the time Brett arrived on the scene, Damon had frozen on the spot. It appeared as though he were staring straight through the card in his hands. Confused, Brett had glanced over Damon's shoulder at the card. Next to Damon in the photograph was a teenage girl who looked strikingly familiar.

Not because Brett had seen her before.

She looked like Damon.

Yeah, Brett knew what was bringing Damon down. Some thing or some one had reminded him of Maggie. Now he was in a serious funk. It had taken two cases of his favorite beer and three back-to-back screenings of the first Iron Man movie to lift him from the last one, and neither of them could go anywhere the following day.

This time, Brett had made other arrangements.

Moving slowly, deliberately, Brett yanked the key out of the ignition. Unhooked his seatbelt. Popped up the door handle. Opened the door. Hopped backward out the door.

Slapped Damon on the thigh.

"Tag!" he cried giddily. Then he recoiled, slammed the door shut, and started jogging in circles around the car.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

words :: three seventy-six , tags :: damon , outfit :: one in pic , credit :: lyrics are from "the tempest" by pendulum, graphic and template by zee , notes :: he's a silly man x]

[Damon Thorne]

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

What right had some stranger, some woman whose name Damon didn't even know, to randomly materialize like a ghost from his past and remind him of the life he'd left behind? What right? Who told her it was okay to show up and paint Maggie's dead face all over his memory? It wasn't fair. Maggie was young. She was beautiful, she was talented, she had the drive necessary to accomplish whatever she wanted. She could've done anything. She would probably be running the country the second she turned thirty-five. Only now, she couldn't do anything. Not run the country, not own a business, not win an Oscar... She'd never get married, never have children (not that Damon would've enjoyed the latter, but most people were big on romance and family).. Maybe she was blessed in a way. She never had to suffer through the death of the one person that meant the world to her. She never had to deal with sickness. Pain, yes. Sickness, no. Having been born to wealthy parents, she never had financial worries, either. Maybe it was a good thing that she didn't live long enough to realize what a cruel, unforgiving place the world could be. That didn't ease Damon's mind, though. That didn't prompt him to forgive the men that had taken his sister's life. More than ever, he wanted to hunt them down, and he wanted to torture them the way they tortured him.

All the details had been worked out. He could see everything clearly in his head -- what his weapons would be, how he'd break in, just what he'd do to them, and finally, how he'd dispose of their bodies and make his escape. He watched the scene play out like a movie in his mind. The trees and buildings flashed by his window in a colorful blur, but he didn't see them. It barely even registered when the car pulled to a stop in some parking lot. Damon didn't know where they were, and at this point, he didn't care. He'd completely forgotten of Brett's presence. He didn't see his roommate's inquisitive eyebrow. He was staring out the window, making his plans, when...

Brett shouted "Tag!" and slammed the door. The entire car shook. Damon snapped up, glancing from side to side in an attempt to figure out where his companion had disappeared to. He got his answer when Brett ran pas the windshield. And past his window. Damon's gaze followed Brett around the back of the car, past the rear window, and all the way back to the driver's side door. But Brett didn't stop there. He went around again. Damon couldn't help it. Brett looked so ridiculous, jogging around a car in the middle of a public parking lot. Damon had to chuckle. What was more, Damon knew the other man wouldn't stop until Damon got out of the car and tried to tag him back. Shaking his head, Damon pushed the door open and spilled out of the cab. Once he'd collected himself, he started toward Brett, reaching out to tap his shoulder.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

words :: five forty-six , tags :: brett , outfit :: one in the pic , lyrics :: "with a little help from my friends" by the beatles , notes :: MORE BS. gee, Damon muse has diarrhea of the mouth

[Brett Garth]

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Gee, Brett was out of shape. One lap around his car at a moderately slow jog, and he was already winded. He made a mental note to drag Damon along on a midnight jog after their fun at the mall had concluded. As much for exercise purposes as to piss Damon off. The man was known for his grumpiness, especially when he didn't get his sleep. Thanks to Brett's mall-a-palooza, Damon would miss his afternoon nap, so sacrificing a few hours of sleep at midnight would drive him up the wall. Brett knew he was pushing the envelope - he and Damon were on thin ice after the stunt he pulled with his roommate's alarm clock - but he didn't care. Damon brooded too much. He could use a little Brett in his system.

The driver's side door appeared just off Brett's right shoulder. He glanced through the window as he jogged past. Damon hadn't made any move to get out of his seat, but he was watching.

That was a start.

Then Brett passed the passenger side door, and Damon sprang.

It was a rather uncoordinated stumble, despite the exceptional timing. Damon could've snatched Brett by the ridiculously large collar of the jacket the art teacher wore if he hadn't tripped over his own two feet sliding out of the cab.

Watching over his shoulder had caused Brett to slow, however, so Damon had the upper hand there.

A second was all it took for the other man to straighten up and launch himself at Brett.

His fingertips came within an inch of Brett's shoulder.

Drawing a deep breath, Brett pumped his arms and took off, sprinting up the parking lot. "Not today, sucker!" he called, not bothering to direct the taunt over his shoulder. Damon knew it was for him. Besides, if Brett turned, he'd fall on his face. He needed to concentrate if he wanted to make it through the automatic doors.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year had come round again, so the mall parking lot was crowded with vehicles and shoppers. Brett pushed through a couple holding hands, jostled a texting teenage girl, and jumped clean over the head of a three-year-old boy walking with his mother. The mother wasn't happy about that.

"Watch where you're going!

she screeched. "You're a grown man, for goodness sakes![/color]"

Turning, Brett ran backward for a few paces so he could reply, "Only on the outside."

Damon was catching up.

Brett executed a one-eighty jump to face forward, not once breaking stride. He upped his pace, speeding through the double doors. He didn't stop there. Using his elbows, he weed-whacked a path through the throng of overzealous holiday shoppers.[/blockquote]

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

words :: four seventy , tags :: damon , outfit :: one in pic , credit :: lyrics are from "the tempest" by pendulum, graphic and template by zee , notes :: didn't match your word count, but I thought that was a good place to end it

[/color][/size][/font]