DoctorIdiot
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There was a rhythmic drumming sound in his ears that was drowning out any other sounds. It was a strong, steady ba-dump, ba-dump that calmed and unsettled John all at once. He tilted his head—still pressed against George's shoulder—to focus on it. A more muted sound of rushing water was accompanying the drums. It took John a second to place it. It seemed as though he could hear not only George's heartbeat, but also the blood rushing in his veins. Involuntarily, he licked his lips, and only then realised there was something wicked happening to his teeth.
—
Or, in which John got turned into a vampire one night during watch. He did not know this, but what he did know was that there's something terribly, terribly wrong with himself.
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Summary
Edward Little gains his hope and confidence back. The hard way.
"You despise me," he mouths, the words barely there.
Henry tilts his head slightly, eyes soft with something unreadable. "I don’t," he whispers. His body leans forward, just the smallest bit. Their eyes meet, but Edward can’t hold the gaze. "I don’t." Henry repeats.
Edward is burning, nausea rising with it. He’s painfully aware of himself, of the prick still pressing against his trousers. Why, then?
"Do you love someone?"
He almost says someone else, as if making it worse was possible.Is it Hodgson, with his perfect fucking French and sharp wit? That fresh lieutenant Clark, with clear blue eyes and endless supply of whiskey? Someone from home? Someone untouched by all of this?
Henry meets his gaze, steady and quiet. "Everyone I love is dead."
Somehow, that cuts deeper. With the dead, he cannot compete.