#shattered | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oddsconvert · 8 days

Text

Shattered #10 - Happy Birthday, August! Part II

Previous / Masterlist

CW: kidnapped whumpee, captivity (kinda), defiant whumpee, whumpee thinks caretaker is a whumper, forced to kidnap references, vampire caretaker, unwilling whumper, forced to be whumper, ALOT of self-loathing and fucky thoughts and guilt and all of it, weapons, adult language, mentions of blood, brief mention of vomit/nausea, reference to toxic/abusive family dynamic (if I've missed any, please let me know! <3)

Part two! A long time coming! The final part should drop in the next few days/this week! :D thank you to the amazing @whumpcereal for her AMAZING beta on this 🥺🫶

---

August has always dreamt of cake on his birthday, the warm scent of sugar and butter taunting his vampiric senses like forbidden fruit. The cake would be chocolate, of course. Every human loves chocolate; it must be the tastiest thing on Earth. This year, there would have been one hundred and thirty candles, barely fitting on top of it. And August could blow them all out and make his birthday wish. Just like the humans do.

But if the flickering flames on his imaginary cake could really grant his wishes, he wouldn’t wish for chocolate. With a single puff of breath, he’d wish to rewind time and erase this horrific day out of existence. Or, perhaps, he’d wish for a clean slate - a life free from the regret that eats him alive. But above all, he would wish to finally be happy - whatever that means. But where does August get the gall to wish for his own happiness when he is the catalyst of another’s misery?

He stole a human being tonight. He crept through the streets, snatched them from where they slept and locked them away. He’d lurked in the shadows and all, like a true monster. As far as the human is aware, they saw the stars for the last time this eve and they’ll never feel fresh air stream through their lungs again. August could see it the moment their eyes first locked - the human feared the blood coursing through his own veins was his no longer, that he had become nothing more than food.

No, if August had birthday candles, he should be wishing for the human’s pain to stop, not his own. He should pray for any memories of this miserable night to fade away, and for the human to feel nothing but warmth and safety for the rest of his days. How dare August make this about himself?

How dare August call himself a doctor?

Really, if August is anything other than a feral creature, he is a coward. He can’t find a drop of courage in his selfish core to face the human. Of course not. That would mean facing up to what he has done to the human.

Instead, August kneels in the bathroom, and he hugs the toilet bowl tight in his arms. He sputters and heaves as spit dribbles from his lips. It’s a battle against wave after wave of never-ending nausea. August is sickened by himself. Repulsed by the cruelty that he and his kind are capable of. Even if he earned his family’s stamp of approval tonight - something he’s always dreamed of and strived for - it wasn’t worth it. Not one bit. He refuses to hurt, abuse and sacrifice an innocent life for a scrap of their regard. Curse their prideful smiles and damn their hollow praise.

CRASH! Shattering glass pierces through the silence in-between retches. August’s heart leaps up into his throat, and his gut clenches.

His human is awake - no! August shakes that insidious thought from his head. Not his, and never his. The human does not belong to him.

August wills the ground to open up and swallow him whole. The thought of skulking down to that basement with his tail between his legs and shame swelling in his chest - it turns his already churning stomach with bubbles of dread. Still, he must. He peels himself from the bathroom floor, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and makes his way downstairs to greet his guest. There’s not a second spare to wallow and drown in self-pity.

He grips the stair bannister for dear life, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Still, he forces his dragging feet to move one step at a time down to the basement. There’s no backing out of this, no turning and running now. August needs to face the music–or face his victim, rather. He must fix what he’s done to this poor human.

There is the sound of a jarring crash, and then another dull thud resonates from behind the locked basement door. August’s shaking hands fumble to fit the key in the lock. With a click, the door opens, and he cautiously descends into the dimly lit basement, every footstep echoing in the sudden, eerie silence.

That is until he hears the human’s heart. It pounds like a war-drum in August’s ears, each beat louder and more erratic. August flicks the light switch, and as the basement floods with light, he freezes on the spot, beyond horrified at the scene before him.

His life's work, decades of dedication, lay in ruins. His surgery looks like the aftermath of an explosion. All the furniture is flipped over, and shards of shattered glass sparkle across the floor like jewels amongst the blitz. Charts and graphs once meticulously hung on the wall now dangle in tatters, their scientific data reduced to meaningless scraps. His medicinal cabinets have been ransacked; trails of viscous liquid snake across the concrete floor from countless broken vials. The air is thick with the acrid smell of chemicals.

And there, behind his masterpiece of destruction, cowers the human, pressed flat against the farthest wall, a scalpel gripped in trembling hands held out before him. Its sharp tip is pointed in August’s direction, glistening against the surgery's harsh strip lights.

August has seen fear in human eyes more times than he can possibly count, but he has never seen fear like this. The human’s eyes burn with such primal terror that they touch the very core of August’s being. In the man’s eyes, August sees his own fear, his own isolation and his own despair. But August stays there, unable to look away no matter how it hurts him. He is trapped in this man’s stare, lost in a labyrinth of his own reflections.

But August feels something else too. A raw and untamed emotion. Rage. All-consuming anger that makes goosebumps prickle down the vampire’s pale skin. Rage courses through the human’s veins like a river of molten lava.

“You stay the hell back!” the human roars until his voice wavers and wobbles. He swings the scalpel into the empty space between them, stabbing at the air. “Don’t you dare come near me!”

August’s hands fly up in surrender. Words escape him. What could he possibly say to make this right? Where does he even start? Surely nothing he could say could do justice to his regret.

“I’m sorry-”

That’s the first thing that blurts out of August’s pathetic mouth. Because it is the only and the most sincere thought that comes to him. As though his apology could ever mend the damage or heal the pain he’s caused tonight.

August is shaking now. He can’t stop. His palm slams against his mouth as he chokes back a guilt-warbled cry. “I’m - so…I’m SO sorry. I - I don’t - I…I -I never. I didn’t want to hurt you. I - I won’t hurt you! I don’t want this. Please - y-you have to believe me. You’re safe here-”

August moves without thinking, over the rubble and glass shards. He moves barely an inch closer, and the human erupts into panic. Like a great cat, the human swiftly pounces and flips the table in front of him to form a barricade, stopping August dead in his tracks. Surgical instruments clatter about, and yet more glass scatters across the cement floor.

“I SAID STAY BACK!” the human brays like a feral animal. His chest heaves dramatically as his lungs seem to fight for breath, and he takes an unsteady step back to create even more distance between them. Gingerly, he cradles his hand, still clutching the scalpel. A gasp escapes his lips as crimson wells from a sudden gash. The tang of iron hits August’s nostrils, drool coats his tongue and his fangs tingle, ready to feed. He wrestles with his animalistic instincts and pushes back the unwanted and primal hunger that threatens to take over. He knows he doesn’t want it, but his body thinks he needs it.

The human had hurt himself in his own destructive frenzy. August can’t help but feel responsible for that too. But that doesn’t seem to deter the human, in fact, it fuels him. He launches himself at the countertops. In one fluid motion, sweeping his arms across the surfaces, clearing it of every single object in a deafening cascade that shatters across the floor.

“HUMAN! PLEASE STOP!”

The human doesn’t speak, but a slow, cold anger radiates off him. Brows slam together, his jaw clenches until the muscles stand out starkly. A single word, each syllable dripping with disdain, finally leaves his lips: "'Human'?"

August immediately realises his mistake. Guilt eats him from the inside out. You utter barbarian; he scolds himself.

“I have a name, you know!” The human snaps incredulously, bloody hands curling into fists.

“Of course, of course! Just…” August breathes, “What is your name?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?!”

The bookshelves are the human’s next victim. He doesn’t bother pulling or ripping at them; he just bulldozes them with a barge of his shoulder. The shelves topple with a cacophony of splintering wood and flapping pages. His gaze is already fixed on his next target: a framed diploma hanging on the wall, defying the human’s rampage.

“Wait, no! P-Please, not that!” August begs, hands clasped together in supplication. The diploma represents his proudest achievement, everything that he’s worked so hard for. It is the only proof August has that there may be good in him somewhere. “Please! Don’t destroy anything else! I just need you to hear me out!”

“Open the door and let me walk out, vamp,” the human scowls, glossing over August’s pleas. “Or do I have to go through you?”

August swallows hard, the human’s casual threat sending a fresh wave of terror through him. He doesn’t doubt the human’s raw strength or willpower for even a second. The destroyed furniture and the fiery defiance in his eyes promise more violence. A heavy silence stretches between them, thick with tension.

“I - I want to help you - please just let me explain all of this-”

The human slams his fist into the nearest wall, a crater of dust left in its wake. August flinches into himself. Then, the man lets out a sound that no soul should ever have to hear. It’s a keening cry - a grieving wail for the life he fears he has lost. It rocks August to his core. It’s bloodcurdling.

“Why’d you choose me, huh?!” The human seethes, damn near foaming at the mouth. “Is it because I sleep rough on the streets? Is that it? Because my life is so fucking expendable?!”

Then, it’s as if a dam has burst. The human’s face just crumples as a choked sob croaks from his lips, barely even audible. Slowly, he slides down against the wall. Head in hands, shoulders slumped, any bravado completely drained from his posture.

“You knew no-one would come for me… didn’t you?” The human manages a whisper, his head hung low in defeat. Words just seem to keep failing August time and time again, he can only watch miserably and quietly.

“DIDN’T YOU?!” the human bellows, eyes bloodshot and wild as his head shoots up. August flinches at the outburst.

“What gives you the right to play god?! What makes my life worth any less than yours, or any other person you could have plucked from the damn street. It was a shitty life. But it was my life! There was nothing left to take from me, and you took it all anyway. You’re a… you’re a parasite.”

August bites his lips and nods, a silent, pathetic apology. He is a parasite. Every word burns like a red-hot fire poker but he knows he deserves every scorch. Scarlet-shame colours his cheeks. Monster, parasite, animal - he’s all of the above.

“I won’t stop fighting you,” the human huffs through tears of fury. “I won't stop until I kill you, even if it kills me. You're right. I have nothing, and no-one. Nothing to lose but everything to gain. So if I’m going to go down, I'm going down swinging. Do your worst…leech.”

Leech.

August has always thought of himself as a healer. A protector. It is here, in this moment, he finally realises he is nothing more than the predator he was born to be. Afterall, there is no denying what he has done. He did take the human, he took away everything the human had to take. He, too, sinks to the floor in devastation, landing heavily in a cross-legged slump opposite the tear-streaked human.

Worst birthday ever.

August is drained and depleted, but he won’t waste any more breath on defending himself; he isn’t worthy of any defence. But the very least he can do is comfort the human - help him to weather the storm and be the anchor he needs right now.

“You can keep the scalpel,” August sniffles, “if it gives you some comfort. If it helps you to feel safe.” It’s an impotent gesture. A scalpel would be useless against him in combat if it really did come to that, but hopefully the human can see the sentiment behind the offer. “All I ask is for a minute of your time, and I promise, I will explain everything to you.”

The human stares at the scalpel in his hand and then locks eyes with August’s in a silent duel. No accusation, no defiance this time - only a deep well of desperate inquiry burning in their depths. A million silent questions hang in the air. He begrudgingly nods for August to go on.

“I will take you home tomorrow morning. I swear it. I wish I could open the front door for you and let you stroll free and wave you off into the world, but we’re deep in vampire territory right now. You wouldn’t last five minutes out here on your own. You’ll be snatched back up in a heartbeat, and by a creature less...inviting than myself. We will go after sunrise tomorrow and not a minute later, you have my word.”

“Your word,” the human spits, “Your word means jack all to me.”

“Then let me prove that I am who I say I am - a man of my word. Let me show you to a bed for tonight. Let me give you food and water, and a pillow to rest your head. And then I will leave you be, to get all the sleep you want and need, and I will keep to myself. The next time you see me, it will be to make our journey back to human territory.”

“...Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking for your trust.” Heaven knows August doesn’t deserve it, could never earn it. “I’m asking, from the bottom of my heart, for your leniency. You could, and probably should, drive a stake through my chest for what I’ve put you through. I cannot say I would blame you, if you did. But…why don’t we both survive the night, and come tomorrow we go our separate ways?”

Relief floods in as the human seems to reluctantly ponder the deal. It’s just a night. They just need to make it through the night, and then they can both go back to their separate lives and try to forget each other's faces. The human must realise that too, because his boiling anger seems to simmer down. August rises to his feet and slowly moves across the room to extend a helping hand. The human only grunts his curt refusal and snubs the offer, forcing himself up off the cold and unforgiving ground.

“Spare bedroom. First floor. It’s all yours for the night. I’ll show you to it.” August nervously beckons the human over as he heads towards the basement door. The man sluggishly follows behind, keeping a distance that feels like miles. August feels distrustful eyes burning into the back of his head. He half expects to feel the scalpel pierce his spine any second.

But it doesn’t. As August leads the way upstairs, their unified steps echo strangely in the emptiness of the house. With each turn, the sheer scale of this place, his home, hits August anew. In the company of this poor stranger he’s pulled from the grime of the street, the house feels absurdly oversized. Every step reveals yet another opulent space – a bathroom, a bedroom, a study, a library, another bathroom. August marches him through this excessive display of wealth with a sinking heart. Does he truly need all this, especially when the man trailing behind him apparently doesn’t have a penny to his name or a roof over his head?

August pauses before what is now the third bedroom door they’ve come across, this one already ajar. Inside, the air is stuffy and still, as though the room hasn’t been disturbed in decades, and it hasn’t; it is untouched and unslept in. A sliver of moonlight creeps through the drawn curtains and slices across the four-poster bed.

“This is yours,” he motions the human through the doorway, “for the night-” he quickly repeats. He chooses every word with due care and diligence, to reaffirm that this situation is by no means permanent.

Hesitantly, the human steps inside. His eyes flit across the ornately carved furniture and over thick layers of dust. August takes his moment to disappear down the hallway, returning minutes later with a tray holding a jug of water, a glass and a bowl of steaming chicken soup - he was lucky to find the tin of it at the very back of his cupboard. A strained smile tugs at August’s lips as he sets it down on the nightstand.

Again, the human recoils from him, pressing himself into the corner of the room.

“I’ll go now, okay? I-I hope you can get a good night's sleep. If you need me, for anything, my bedroom is on the very end of the hall, on the left”.

“I won’t need you,” the human scoffs. “Go. Leave.”

The rebuff curdles August’s smile, his lips twitch nervously. “As you wish…” he mutters, stalking towards the door with defeat. Hand on the doorknob, he pauses, “My name is August, by the way. Could I please at least know your name, too?”

Rooted to the spot, the human squares his broad shoulders, a challenge radiating from his posture. “Names are sacred, leech,” he declares, teeth gritting together. “I plan to keep that secret for as long as I can keep my mind.”

The human’s words strike August like a physical blow. The air whooshes from his lungs, deflating him like a pricked balloon. Regret, sharp and bitter, settles in his chest. He can’t stay a second longer, not with the humiliating spark of unshed tears threatening to spill. His family is right, he’s a weak and pathetic excuse for a vampire. With a twist of the doorknob, he flees down the hall to his bedroom. He collapses onto his bed and buries his face in the pillow.

—

For the human, however, sleep will be a stranger tonight. Any last vestige of drowsiness flees as the vampire vanishes. Sleep just isn’t in the cards. He has to hold out until dawn. He scrambles for anything he can get his hands on to barricade the door. It’s his first line of defence overnight;it will give him a fighting chance and an advantage over the creature.

The heavy dresser groans in protest as he drags it across the room to block the door, scratching and scraping the floorboards along its path. He doesn’t think twice about the damage, if the vamp gets to destroy his life, then he gets to destroy it’s property. Then the rickety chair and the desk it sits at gets pushed into the barricade. And the bedside tables, the bookcase too. Finally, his gaze falls on the bed and its sturdy oak bedposts. He pulls his scalpel from his pocket and digs his scalpel into the wood, feverishly wedging a chunk out of it with all the strength he has left. Shavings rain down as he whittles it down to a sharpened point. Slapdash, but a stake nonetheless.

Every creek of the settling house, every rustle in the wind sets the human’s teeth on edge. He crawls into the bed and slips under the blankets. He’s pleasantly surprised at how soft they are, and how the mattress feels like he’s floating on a cloud and how warmth seems to instantly envelop his fatigued body. He’s not felt this much comfort in…in, well, years.

But he can’t afford to let his weary eyes slip shut. He stays watching the door like a hawk from his bed, his staked clutched close to his beating chest.

Morning can’t come quick enough.

*!*!*!*!*

Dawn finds the human bleary-eyed but alert. His crafted weapon is still clutched tightly in his palms as he half-stares and blinks drearily at the barricaded door, as ready and poised to attack as he can be. Moonlight has dwindled and now sunlight beams through the velvet curtains instead. He leaps up, rips the curtains open and basks in the sun’s kiss. It’s something he thought he’d never feel again,

He survived the night. It’s nothing short of a miracle. A silent thank you rises in his throat as a single tear slips from his eye. Someone, he thinks, has to be watching over him. His parents, he hopes. There’s no way he would have made it through this without them.

Now the vampire just has to hold true to his promise. If his word holds any weight, the human will be back in human territory before dusk. Yet, the whole situation defies any logic. The human can’t wrap his head around the absurdity of it all. Why would a vampire snatch him, just to return him by nightfall, less than twenty four hours later? He can’t fight the feeling that a deeper motive lurks beneath the surface, a sinister plan at play. Suspicion clings to the human like cobwebs. Beyond the hospitality and kindness… the vampire has to be up to something.

The human dismantles his barricade and heads out to go downstairs. Every fibre of his being screams ‘it’s a trap!’...but the human can’t deny the smallest sliver of hope in his chest, piercing his bubble of suspicion. The vampire had kept true to its word so far, it had left him alone and untouched, fed and watered, a bed to sleep in. It hasn’t laid a hand on him nor tried to feed. In fact, it had kept far away. Maybe the vampire deserves the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, there isn’t anything more to this than meets the eye, and there are no strings attached?

But hope is a dangerous thing, tempting him to lower his guard and leave himself vulnerable for thirsty fangs to sink into. No, he thinks grimly, tightening his grip on the makeshift stake. He will not trust, cautious acceptance will have to do. He’s ready to fight with all he’s got when it all heads south.

He reaches the landing and sneakily peeks over the railing. The vampire stands by the front door, guarding it like a troll bridge. To stop the human from escaping? The vampire meticulously folds up his sleek, black umbrella and places it back in his stand. He looks so tall, impossibly tall, even from the human’s vantage point. The vampire is dressed in a three-piece suit and leather dress shoes that seems more suited to an office boardroom than house wear.

As the human strains for a better look, a sudden creak of the floor makes the vampire snap his head up. Chilling red eyes lock with the human’s in a way that sends a jolt of pure terror down the man’s spine. Would he be punished for this? Would the vampire strip him of his free will and send him marching down to the basement for punishment? He’s heard they can do that–and worse. All the fear sparks anew. He can’t catch his breath - he’s panicking.

But the vampire's eyes aren’t actually filled with the predatory and furious glint he expected. Instead, a swirl of emotions flickers within them - concern, sorrow, even…anxiety? It’s a disarming sight. This creature looks nearly as worried as Lucas feels…

—

"There's been a change in plans,” August laments.

August could literally hear the human’s heart drop in his chest, like a lead weight falling into a deep well. The human’s eyes are wide with despair, and his mouth drops open as though he’s been struck across the cheek. A wave of guilt crashes over August, and he isn’t oblivious to how this looks. It looks like the betrayal and deceit the human has anticipated since he first set eyes on August. August is well aware he just crushed the man’s hopes to dust, and confirmed every doubt and fear. But it’s out of his hands. Mother nature is a cruel mistress.

“No-” the human rasps, nearly falling down the stairs as his legs give out on him. “No, vamp. You said you’d take me home. You said today. You promised-”

“That’s not the element that’s changed. My promises are sworn and imperishable. There is, however, a delay.”

"A ‘delay’…” The human repeats incredulously, a hint of sarcasm to his tone. His suspicion eats away at him, misplaced though it is. August is many things - a liar, he is not. But there’s no way the human could know that. Not yet, anyway. The human takes a cautious step back from August, staring him up and down with disdain.

"A storm is raging outside. The streets are thick with snow and ice, and the skies are dark with thundering clouds. It’s too dangerous to make the drive.”

“I don’t care,” the human snidely retorts. “I’ll walk it if I have to. Just open the door for me, and I’ll be on my merry way. I’ll be out of your hair and you can have your big, lonely mansion all to yourself again.”

Yes, his lonely mansion. All to himself. The words sting more than August cares to admit. He winces like a knife is twisting in his belly. When the human goes home, he will be all alone again. It was nice…is nice…the company. Talking to someone that’s not a suffering patient or his own reflection in the mirror. He already feels the emptiness settling over him once again. He longs for companionship, for someone to share his home with. He sighs, knowing that he'll have to wait a bit longer for his wish to come true. He can’t keep the human here–at least not indefinitely. But he will have to make the human understand that tonight is non-negotiable.

“You can’t-” August shakes his head. The man would never make it home. Not with the minus temperatures and the blankets of snow.

“I can. I am. Move,” the human growls, his hands balled into fists. Only then does August notice the crude stake in the human’s white-kncukled hand. No, this human will never be his friend, but even still, August has a duty to him.

The human storms towards the door and tries to push it open. It doesn’t budge. He barges his shoulder into the door, desperately ramming it. Still it doesn’t give. Soon, he’s kicking and shoving and a warbled cry rockets up his throat. Despite his frantic assault, the door only cracks open slightly.

“Snow,” August chimes in, pointing to the falling white powder crumbling through the gap in the door. “We’re snowed in. Must be at least twelve inches of it, I would think.”

“No. This can’t be happening. We-We climb out the bedroom window!” The human’s eyes light up at the idea, sprinting towards the staircase in a panic.

“And then what will you do? Trek all the way back to human territory in this snowstorm? Do you know how far out we are?”

In the blink of an eye, the human tumbles to the floor in a heap, screaming into his hands, pulling at his hair. The blizzard howls like a banshee outside, a gust of snow blows in from outside. The human knows he’s stuck here. He’s trapped here, with a bloodsucker. He’s going to die. Or at least that’s what he must believe.

“I can’t stay here. With you. I won’t do it.”

“Please,” August says. He resists the urge to move closer; there’s no point in riling the human any more than he’s already riled himself up. “My word is my bond. I won’t harm you. But I can’t in good conscience return you to where I found you. I’m a physician. I can’t put anyone in harm’s way. To sleep rough on a night like tonight–it would be a death sentence.”

The human laughs coldly. “Was this your plan all along? Crush my spirits? Delude me into thinking it’s my choice to stay?”

“I don’t control the weather,” August sighs. “This doesn’t change a thing. I will still take you home as soon as the roads are clear.”

The human remains silent, his jaw clenched. With a final, hate-filled glare, he storms towards the stairs, and, like a sulking teenager, stomps upward in a whirlwind of fury. The slam of his bedroom door reverberates throughout the house.

But the human is still here. He is still safe. August hasn’t failed entirely.

An exhausted breath escapes August’s lips. He isn’t used to this, the vulnerability of sharing his haven and bearing the weight of responsibility for another life. A knot of unease tightens in his gut. These forced close quarters may at least offer him a chance to ease the human’s fear and earn a crumb of forgiveness, but August can’t help but wonder – will they be able to bridge the chasm between predator and prey?

This is going to be a long couple of days…

---

@octopus-reactivated @whatwasmyprevioususername @ramadiiiisme @darkthingshappen @whumpsday @thecyrulik @t0rture-me @redwhump @the-cryptid-finch @snowstuffscuff @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @wolfeyedwitch @interdimensional-chaos @termsnconditions-apply @whump-blog @leyswhumpdump @not-a-space-alien @onlybadendings @darlingwhump @sparrowsage @flynnswhumpprompts @whumpcereal @wolves-and-winters @ashh-ed @idkmansomeusername @whuarri @33-sdtr-45 @pigeonwhumps @canislycaon24 @the-whumpers-grimm @damienxozmoze @predacon-skydrift @morning-star-whump @neverthelass @espresso-depresso-system @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @androgynousqueenie @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @kadeee00 @that-one-small-world @doodlepoodle154 @sodacreampuff @cupcakes-and-pain @topsheepstudent @mylovelyme @anonfromcanada @astrokea @turn-the-tables-on-them