Eyes of Scarlet (Dolan Twins)

VII

12:13.

This is the time that reads on the clock in the corner in bright red letters.

Grayson sits on the black office chair next to Ethan's bed. For the past half hour, he has been watching him in his unconscious state as the vampiric infection rages in his body. There are trembles, much quicker than the ones he had experienced yet his had taken so much longer to peak. He reaches out his hand and places it on Ethan's lightly, feeling the back of it, rubbing his thumb against his knuckles. The bite wounds are healing, and he watches in silence as the flesh knits itself back together. He has grabbed a warm washcloth from the bathroom and has cleaned the blood off his healed wounds as well as the blood that is on himself.

Ethan is there.

He isn't going anywhere.

And neither is Grayson.

His hand stills on his twin's, his fingers connecting. The warmth is fading, and they are almost the same temperature now.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

He thinks about what this means. He thinks about what they will have to do to survive, where they will go, and how long they will be able to stay in this house before someone comes down the country road to cast their gaze upon it: the fall leaves deep in their decayed beauty, the cars still in the driveway, the broken silence, like a glass being thrown against a wall in misguided rage, the amber liquid splashing onto the dull, wasted paint. What will they think of the old, rusted tire swing in the front hanging from their maple tree, rocking slowly back and forth in the bitter wind? Will they piece the puzzle together of his month-long absence, the bodies in the house, his brother missing as well as he?

Should they burn the damned thing down? Burn down all the years of abuse, all the years of pain, watch as the frame collapses in ashy gray smoke, watch as the glass warps inwards, melting?

Grayson's eyes flicker to his brother's face, and he thinks about how he never really knew anything about vampires, until now, when he is one.

And Ethan is too.

They have each other, and they always will. Not even death will part them, now, not even a Coldtown. This brings a kind of solace to him, that he feels in his heart, the place where we love our family completely, and without pause.

The rain has stopped outside.

Ethan has stopped shaking, too, and Grayson's eyes dance over the wall behind him, a white like stripped bone, and blinks when Ethan's eyes snap open.

They are red, blood red.

Vampire red.

The fangs in his mouth are as natural as the forest outside their home.

Grayson hand stills on his twin's and he watches as he turns his head to the side on the pillow, eyes meeting. He looks confused for a moment before he realizes what has happened.

Ethan gets up, and Grayson releases his hold on him.

Their eyes are both eyes of scarlet, matching, reflecting.

Ethan doesn't know to be pissed or relieved. He should be pissed: his brother has just turned him into a fucking vampire. But also, relieved: he's there. He doesn't know how to feel so he just lets himself be in the room with Grayson.

"Hey, buddy," Grayson says, giving a small smile.

"Hey," he says, blinking, moving up off the bed, "Shit."