The Beast in Man (Vampires in Berlin: Book One)

The Beast in Man Part 5

  Richard watched as Paul slept in his arms, body heavy and lax, expression one of blissfully unaware dreaming. He reached up and stroked at Paul's head, smoothing down the ruffled strands of the other man's hair. He sighed and tried to sleep, yet he found that sleep was frustratingly out of reach no matter how hard he tried. He dared not stray too far from Paul's side, for fear of disturbing the other man and potentially waking him, so instead he watched the way that the other man's chest rose and fell, and listened to the small - huff-huff-huff - of the other man's breathing.

Richard could hear the sounds of footsteps outside, pacing up and down the corridor in a seemingly endless - boom-boom-boom - against the carpet; he frowned, and wondered who it could be that could making so much noise. Paul shifted in his sleep, and rolled partially away, enough so that Richard could slip out from beneath the covers and investigate. He clicked open the door, glad for the fact that there was no light shining in the corridor that separated the bedrooms; across the hallway, he could hear Olli sleeping, and murmuring softly in his dreaming state, something about not wanting 'any more damned pastry, thank you.'

Richard was surprised when he saw that there wasn't anyone outside pacing the corridor, nor was there anyone doing the same in the living area. Richard frowned and returned to the cabin's sleeping section, to stand outside everyone's rooms. He could hear Olli still talking in his sleep, the faint sounds of Schneider's restless dreaming, and the snores that emanated from Till's and Flake's rooms opposite form each other. Richard's frown deepened and he returned to the room he shared with Paul, clicking the door quietly shut behind himself once more. He walked across the room and stared down at the still peacefully sleeping Paul; he watched the way that a shaft of moonlight lanced through a gap in the curtains to rest quietly upon Paul's face. Again, he could hear that same steady thump-thump-thump that had reminded Richard so much of feet hitting against carpet; he frowned and leaned closer to Paul, and the sound grew louder still; with a sense of horrified alarm, Richard realized that he could hear Paul's heart beating steadily in his chest, loud and as clear as footsteps.

Richard inhaled sharply, eyes dodging wildly around the room, seeking help from , he knew not whom and suddenly became aware that he could smell Paul, smell the blood that ran in his veins, smell the toothpaste that Paul had used before going to bed some time before; he could even smell the remnants of the soap and deodorant that Paul had used earlier that morning whilst taking his shower, which Richard knew to be impossible. Paul had showered at least twelve hours before, and usually Richard was only aware of the clean scents for about an hour afterwards. He wondered then if he was going mad, if there was something wrong with him, or if he still was dreaming and this was some kind of bizarre and surreal nightmare; he even wondered if he was getting a migraine. His senses usually were hyper-sensitive around the beginning of one of his migraine attacks; he sighed in frustration, when he realized that that wasn't the answer either. He didn't have the tell-tale encroaching nausea, nor the pressure that normally built up behind his eyes, nor the lights that usually disturbed and distorted his vision during the onset of a migraine.

He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, and turned away, as a sudden growl of hunger gripped at his stomach. He decided to get himself some food, and padded through to the well-appointed kitchen. He still could smell the remnants of the beef stew that the band had shared between them earlier in the evening, courtesy of Paul. He smiled over the memory of Schneider moaning about the lack of vegetarian fare, moments before Paul had presented him with a bowl of vegetable stew of his own, that he'd cooked in a separate pot on the stove. Schneider's grateful smile had been immediate and infinitely happy.

Richard padded across the room to the fridge, opened the door and leant in to peer in at the chilly interior. He felt the light wash over him, stabbing at his eyes uncomfortably, even though the light in and of itself was not really all that bright. He scrubbed his fingers across his eyes, now sore and sensitive from the back-wash of light. He tried to pick out something, anything from the fridge that he could eat, but everything that he laid eyes or hands upon turned his stomach, and made him feel nauseous.