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Damon was tired. He was tired of trying with these people- as soon as they began to get close to him. As soon as the idea of trusting one of them actually occurred to him, they were dead.
Bruised and burning like Eva.
Or drowning in a pool of blood like Kai.
Honestly fuck them all at this point, Diana and her ever-increasing optimism, Cassidy and her off-kilter references, all of them. He wanted nothing more to do with them. Unfortunately it looked like someone wasn’t getting the message.
He’d come to a stop outside his dorm, no way was he going back to sleeping in Kai’s- not alone, not surrounded by that obnoxious shade of pink that suited the other so well, it almost scared him how similar his reaction felt to Grace’s over Wolfgang-
Someone had followed him.
“What do you want?” His shadow was silent. “Seriously I’m not in the mood-” Turning greeted him with a most-unlikely face staring back at him.
Instead of someone coming to try and cheer him up, or console him. Instead of someone he’d expect like Diana, or Jean or maybe even Desmond standing before him was Mark?
“Uh..” The other rolled his hands anxiously along the rim of his hat, it was pulled so low it threatened to swallow his expression whole.
Now Damon wasn’t an impatient person, he was used to waiting, waiting for his opponents to mess up in their argument for him to jump in, waiting for the ink on his notes to dry, waiting for the moment he woke up from this nightmare. And yet as he stood there scrutinising the music producer he felt his patience wane.
“Well if that’s all, goodnight.” He returned to his door, reaching for the handle.
God, when was the last time he’d come here alone, without Kai sticking to him like a piece of gum chattering away unaware that within days he’d be staring blank-faced at the ceiling seeing nothing at all.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly pushed the door open when a hand grabbed his wrist. Jolting and almost tripping in surprise, he sneered as Mark spoke.
“Wait Damon, just calm it a second.. It’s hard to.. Shit..”
This time Mark met his eyes, and well..he normally wasn’t the most healthy looking, appearing too lean and smaller than Damon when they occasionally bumped into each other during their expansive freetime despite supposedly being the same height according to the trinket profiles.
But now, his eyes were red, puffy like he’d rubbed across them too frequently and none too gently, his cheeks were flushed a devastated red and his lip had a seemingly constant quiver.
Oh right. Mark had been close with Jett hadn’t he? Almost like Mark’s own Kai always chattering away, inviting himself and lingering around, well apart from when he’d gone and bashed Kai’s head in-
The grip on his wrist squeezed hard, “Shit, shit Damon breathe.”
He blinked focusing back on the person before him, he was still dishevelled but now he held a look of concern. For who, Damon?
The hell?
Righting himself with a deep breath. “What’d you want Mark, I’m tired.”
“Um..well..” The other trailed off glancing away awkwardly before swallowing and looking to Damon’s wrist still clasped in his hand. “Since we both don’t have a roommate anymore, I was wondering if you wanted to pair up?”
Against his will Damon felt himself freeze up, not again he couldn’t do this again. Especially not with someone like Mark with Kai he’d just let the influencer ramble, and interject occasionally to appear somewhat engaged.
But what the hell would he do with Mark? They both didn’t excel socially- hell the dude didn’t even like his own name. How was Damon meant to work with that?
“No.”
He expected anger, upset- Mark’d clearly shown himself capable of such a reaction earlier in the trial when he’d- not now dammit. He’d expected anything really except the resigned look that befell the other’s features, the way the soft confidence of anticipation swept from his eyes and was replaced by defeat.
He didn’t expect the grip on his arm to loosen and to watch the other walk away down the hallway without so much as a response.
Confused but ultimately deciding to brush the whole exchange off as an emotional mis-step after the trial, Damon turned back to his door and entered his room with the intention to sleep for the first time in over a fortnight.
-
When the announcement rang out cheerily the following morning, Damon groaned in either annoyance or resignation he wasn’t sure; perhaps an amalgamation of the two. He hadn’t slept not for lack of trying mind you.
The sheets had felt stale, the comforter not fluffy enough, the room too quiet without Kai’s echoing snores. It had felt wrong, lonely even.
Pushing his face into his pillow with a muffled shout, he yielded to the unrelenting consciousness in his body and began to plan his morning. Wash, and then go to breakfast. Hopefully see nobody and then..and then return to his room and stay the hell away from anyone else.
Unfortunately for Damon his plan went off the rails on step number two of the measly three, entering the dining hall presented him the realisation that maybe he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept as he was greeted by several tired faces and a smiling Diana.
For god’s sake.
Trying to avoid everyone’s gaze Damon headed towards the kitchen, perhaps he’d just grab some toast and take it back to his room-
“Good morning Damon.” He almost dropped his plate as Mark appeared beside him.
“Um.. yeah morning Mark.” The other still didn’t look great, and if the light spattering of blood adorning his trousers was anything to go by wasn’t feeling too great either. Damon wanted to burn the clothes he’d worn when they’d found Kai, certainly not sleep in and then continue to wear them.
During his observation the other had caught on and by the time Damon found himself cataloguing Mark’s freshly bitten fingernails, runny nose and still red eyes the other was watching him back.
“Hm.. have I got something on my face?”
“I- no you just-” The toast popped, cutting Damon off. Clearing his throat he chanced a look at Mark to see him still standing there seemingly content. “Would you like some Mark?”
Blinking back obvious surprise Mark nodded briefly, his perpetual frown momentarily flicking into a small smile, and Damon found his lips twitching in response. Before forcing his attention back to his, now their, breakfast.
Stupid, he was so stupid.
No more getting attached, especially not to someone vulnerable like Mark, if he couldn’t protect Kai who stuck to him like glue and was somewhat confident at standing his ground he’d have no chance with Mark.
Mark who’d surely be a walking target for whoever lost it next.
Thankfully speaking briefly to Mark caused the others to ignore the pair of them, probably thinking they’d found solstice with each other and we’re on their way to being best buddies or something equally as stupid- the mere thought made Damon want to puke.
But that naivety had let him slip from the dining hall with just a few nods so he couldn’t really complain.
-
Normalcy, or as close to as possible in their current situation, settled between the remaining students as the following days passed. Conversations grew less stilted, smiles and laughter began to fall upon meal times and the scars of the trial began to peter out.
Damon spent most of his time alone, which was fine, not too foreign of a situation to find himself in. He’d been too argumentative, too driven to debate to have many friends before Eden’s garden, he’d rarely spent time with anyone outside his parents.
That trend hadn’t been broken by the sadistic circumstances of his current situation, sure he didn’t actively avoid the others but he certainly wasn't going to seek them out.
And so outside minor conversations around meals and someone coming to check he wasn’t dead in his room daily, Damon’s life took a quiet turn, well at least until Tozu’s bullshit started up again.
Another sanctuary, another motive..
Was it bad that the process was already feeling somewhat repetitive to Damon, surely the dickhead behind this all was going mad themselves. If there truly had been another incident like this with that Cara girl’s class, surely it’d be getting repetitive for them by now everything the others did seemed to be so cliche it could be in a Hollywood movie.
Although he supposed you’d need to be a senile bastard to set this up so this was probably still fresh and exciting to them.
Even the motives were getting sloppy. Money. The motive was money, as if some of the world’s most renowned athletes and intellectuals weren’t standing in front of him Tozu had presented them with the idea of an unspecified sum. Even Wenona hadn’t looked enticed and her whole stick was to make money.
Surely no one was going to act on something as vague as an undisclosed cash prize?
The quick darting eyes and uneasy smiles from a few of the others almost had him sighing, these people were going to kill him mentally before anyone got the chance to do so physically.
Someone stepped into the empty space where Tozu had previously been, pink eyes determined, chameleon armlet glinting in the new library’s dimmed lights..
Damon turned heel and headed back to his room, drowning out her words of encouragement and the following rallyment of his peers. They were all idiots and if he was going to have to just watch them pick eachother off one by one?
So be it.
-
Did you know that the canopy above Damon’s bed holds two imperfections, along the top stitches there's a gather of loose strands three times the width of his right pointer finger in from the left edge. And then in the bottom right is a discolouration, wispy in shape, almost serpentine..or maybe that’s the lack of sleep talking.
He has no idea what time it is, no windows means no natural light, no clocks means no ticking, no Kai means no parameter of time even passing. For all he knows Damon’s trapped in some silent nightmare, where no one can reach him and he can do nothing more than toss and turn as he laments-
Footsteps echo around the corner, heavy footed and frantic.
The serpent stain seems to grow sharp teeth.
The footfalls continue into his room.
His eyes squint as he strains to hear anything discernable about his imagined intruder.
And then his door slams shut paired with desperate gargles of air- too garbled to be any semblance of normal breathing.
Oh shit.
This is really happening.
Someone’s in Damon’s room right now. In the middle of the night.. When it’s assumed he’d be asleep and vulnerable. Damn it why didn’t he re-jam the chair under the door handle, flimsy sure but it would have ‘woken him up’ and scared his would be assailant before they tried anything.
Subtlety is a word no-one would ever use to describe Damon and yet he manages to sneak an arm out of his worry-rumpled covers and grasp one of the hollowed-out books from his side table. He doesn’t even dare to relinquish his relieved breath, it could be his last after all if he’s not careful.
Slipping out of his bed, on the side farthest from his door, he squints out into the darkness hoping for any sign of movement- Christ he hopes this isn’t some auditory hallucination his brain had cooked up. But no it’s still there, the sound of someone else breathing out into the darkness of his room.
Rolling his shoulders back Damon takes his first step forward, glad for the gentle padding from both his socks and the carpet; he’s practically silent. Slowly he crowds in on his attacker, they haven’t really done much of anything though, perhaps they’re having second thoughts.. Or maybe had no plan at all. Some of the idiots in here probably would even rush into something as devious as murder.
He stops beside the bathroom door, somehow still unnoticed, it's somewhere to duck into in the worst case scenario that this is someone bigger, someone stronger than him.
Another minute step forward. Damon raises the book above his head, preparing to bring it crashing down when the panting becomes a sob.
And then that sob becomes a guttural sound, something desperate- something familiar.
Shuffling the book to be tucked under his left arm, he pushes the bathroom door open and flicks on the light.
The harsh appearance of the light has the figure curling further into themself as they softly rock back and forth against his room’s door.
His book barely makes more than a dull thud as Damon drops it as he rushes to crouch beside Mark. There’s so much blood, so much. More than what splattered all over them when Jett crashed, more than what arched out of Kai’s head..more than Damon’s ever seen before and he doesn’t know what to do.
But being himself, he of course pushes onwards anyways.
Grabbing at the hands clasped on the other’s knees gets what he wants in the moment- a reaction, what that reaction isn’t quite as ideal though as Mark shoots forwards and forces Damon back until he’s trapped under the other.
He pushes back as it happens, trying to slip away just in case the blood Mark’s dripping in is a result of someone else already falling to his hands tonight- but all he succeeds in doing is knocking his head against the wall, making him all the more pliant for the other to scramble on top of whilst he hisses at the sudden contact.
Now realistically Damon knows he could gets out the hold Marks has him in, it’s loose and the other’s hands are slick with pink, the colour surely staining Damon’s wrists where they lay pinned above his head- as long as Tozu doesn’t foot him some sort of bill for getting blood on the carpet he doesn’t really matter where it ends up.
Because well, Mark’s still breathing, still fighting and therefore likely isn’t going to die in front of Damon’s eyes. Again if the blood is even his, the angle makes anything below his rapidly moving chest hard to see. The other is in his pyjamas and as such hasn’t got his staple beanie on so Damon has an eyeful of black and green hair from root to tip when Mark starts sobbing again this time basically into Damon’s chest.
It’s uncomfortable for sure but he’s not dead yet so he’s content to wait for the other’s emotion to pass, for the other to sit up, apologise and leave.
And yet he finds himself still pinned minutes later, the carpet chafing his wrists, shirt damp with tears and possibly snot- and well his patience snaps.
“Mark.”
“Mark, get off of me.”
“Seriously Berskii, cut it out.” Has listening to so much music damaged his hearing or something dear god- he calls out the other’s name once more and when he receives no response still Damon decides to just go for it.
And so he bucks his hips up before rolling the pair of them over so that’s he the one hovering over Mark. He doesn’t grab the other’s hands instead he presses down on his shoulders, fingers spread across his clavicle and jugular and settling on Mark’s thighs- it's much less awkward than their previous position whilst also removing a lot of the risk regarding them re-switching.
Momentum comes from the pelvis and thighs-
maybe he thinks-
he hopes,
and well if not exposed pressure to the jugular is basically mild asphyxiation.
Predictably Mark struggles, trying to sit up only stopping with a gasp at the pressure on his neck, his head thuds back against the carpet, eyes fluttering shut momentarily before he looks up at Damon and seems to finally see him. Not whoever he had the misfortune of running into earlier. Or the misfortune of-
“Is the blood yours?”
Glassy eyes blink back up at him, had someone drugged him like what happened back with Wolfgang- shit Damon really hopes not that would make his sorta-theory of the blood not being Mark’s at all more plausible. However the boy under him nods his head slightly moments later, and Damon is..
Damon is relieved, so much so that he can’t help but let out a small laugh. Something which gets him a very confused look from Mark whose eyes have relit with that subtle witty intelligence that usually only appears towards the end of a trial. Or when he thinks of a particularly good insult.
“Choking huh, now I know why all your past friends keep passing.” This paired with the non-pulsed eyebrow has Damon scrambling backwards from Mark for the second time in what half an hour? Thankfully though he doesn’t hit the wall this time and is able to offer a hand to help Mark up into a seated position.
Still lit only by the pale white from the bathroom, Mark looks otherworldly in a ghostly way with the pale pallor still clinging to his skin, the now dried splatters of blood and the dark shadows under his eyes.
“C’mon up.”
Mark just looks at him confused as he stands their hands still connected. Damon just tugs until the other sluggishly joins him on his feet. Voice breaking as he slurs a slow response.
“Seriously. You’re kicking me out, shit Damon. I'm. You. Sorr-”
“No, I’m gonna help you clean all that off you. Then we’re going the fuck to sleep and you can tell what the hell happened in the morning because now I know you’re not here to throttle me in my sleep I’d very much like to get back to it.”
When there’s still some resistance to his leading hand, Damon turns back to look at Mark frown scrunching up his features just to be met with that same cruel sparkle in the other’s eyes.
“Throttle huh? We sure are learning a lot about each other tonight.”
“Shut up and get in the shower before I plan to drown you in it.”
Mark’s laugh is awkward but the way it echoes in Damon’s shitty bathroom makes the weight of the conversation to come seem less daunting.