bioluminescence

enemy lines

It started off as a seemingly regular Thursday night but as he paced the full length of his living room over and over again, Pitch felt absolutely, utterly, completely, downright bewildered.

His eyes kept straying toward the weak-looking boy currently draped across his sofa, unconscious.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.

At this point, Pitch had already downed a whole jug of water and decided that he needed something much stronger. He made his way to the liquor cabinet and then back to the dining table, empty-handed. He cursed and got up again, back to the liquor cabinet. What am I doing?

Panic rose in his chest but then he would look over and see the sleeping - well - boy, on his couch and it would promptly be replaced by something that felt horribly close to sympathy. It was absolutely pathetic. Imagine being an evil, heartless, havoc-wreaking super-villain and harbouring a kind feeling towards the utterly pretentious, stupid bimbo, spewing sermons of righteousness. A hero. Truly laughable.

But when he'd heard a weak knock on his door that evening and saw Eli Carter leaning against the door's frame, shivering and bleeding, he didn't know what else he was supposed to do. He hadn't prepared for a scenario like this. He opened the door.

The city's favourite crime-fighting superhero had looked scared and almost every visible inch of his body was bruised and bleeding.

For years, Pitch had been trying to beat Eli in combat. He had obsessed over it and not once had he managed to bring the boy to this state. So who had? Eli had a dazed look in his eye as if he were drugged or perhaps he hit his head really badly. Despite his tight grip on the door frame, he was swaying looking like he was ready to pass out. His voice was tiny, almost inaudible when he looked up at Pitch and mumbled, "didn't know where else to go -," then he collapsed, slumping against Pitch's body. Forcing Pitch to catch him.

For several long seconds Pitch just stood there, in utter confusion. His arms sloppily trying to hold up Eli's sudden weight. What is happening? He couldn't think of a single appropriate reaction.

Should I drop him? , he thought. But Pitch was afraid Eli would break entirely if he did that. What am I supposed to do? It took a good while but he eventually realized he should definitely not just stand out there in the open and biting cold until Eli decided to wake up. Pitch had no choice but to bring him in and dump his limp body on the sofa.

Eli was shivering.

He wished he hadn't noticed that fact. He did nothing about it at first. Why would he? He wasn't going to cover his arch-nemesis with a fuzzy blanket now, was he? Of course not. There was no way in hell he was going to do that. He ignored it and went over to sit at the dining table.

Pitch glanced back, scowling. The boy just wouldn't stop shivering. What a fucking weakling. He groaned. He dumped a blanket over the wretched snob, avoiding looking at his face even though he knew Eli's eyes were closed. No one is ever going to hear about this, it's fine. As long as no one hears about it, he thought.

I was perfectly happy, drinking my soda, that I stole from the shop by the way, like a proper villain. I was perfectly content playing video games, virtually murdering heroes, but of course, this had to happen and of course, it had to happen to me. How in the world am I supposed to act?

What am I going to do when the brat wakes up?

Pitch poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a seat on the dining table, facing the living room so he could keep an eye on Eli. In case he decided to jump up and attack him, or something. But Eli appeared to be just sleeping. His breathing was soft. Pitch marvelled at that. Every time the two of them crossed paths Eli was always angry, his breathing would always be strained or coming out in angry huffs and puffs. It was hilarious, the dude was so easy to work up. Wow, his eyelashes were long enough to cast shadows on his cheeks.