Careless

"How could you do this to me?" Her mouth was drawn tight, her breaths slow and labored, occasionally hitching. At her sides, her hands were balled into loose fists that trembled whenever she breathed in.

Zan stretched out on his bed, arms behind his head as he counted the number of tiles on the ceiling. There were twenty-seven on his side of the room, twenty-three over Jack's bed, and a total of eighty-four in the whole room. He could feel the energy pulsing off of Mira as she stood taut at the foot of his bed. The longer he laid there, relaxed on top of the warm comforters, the more energy he felt, and it grew heavier and darker with each shakily controlled breath that she took.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he finally answered. He kept his eyes pleasantly up, wondering if he should count the number of half tiles around the room's border. There would be twenty-nine, but maybe he would count them counter clockwise this time.

He was aware of her muttering harsh words under her breath and walking heavily to the other side of the room. He heard her try--and fail--to quietly yank one of Jack's pillows out from underneath the messy heap of blankets that lay strewn across the foot of his bed. There were only so many things she could do, and given the waves of energy pouring off of her, Zan waited for her vain attempt at retaliation. He yawned.

Then he breathed in sharply and lurched forward as something smacked against his stomach. He reached out to try to grab her arm, but Mira smacked his hands away and slammed the pillow against his head. His skull thudded into the wall behind him, and as he saw her get ready for another blow, he snatched her wrists in his hands and yanked them above her head. Mira whimpered and struggled against his grasp. He stood up from his bed and shoved her away while he squeezed her wrists tightly, digging his nails into her soft skin.

He could hear her heart drumming quickly in her chest and his own beat heavily out of time with hers. His breathing was rugged, and everything he had ever learned since he was young demanded him to punish her for her assault. She didn't understand that any hand raised against him in the past would've been dealt with severely. His own siblings were the dead proof. They defied him, they threatened him, they fought him, and they all paid one by one.

But that was then.

"Care to explain yourself?"

Mira shook her head furiously, making sure to avoid eye contact. Zan pulled her chin up and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were beginning to water, but they were dark and determined. Her body still shook in his hands and the energy that emanated from her was still dark, but he could feel it shrinking back.

"You know you aren't supposed to be in here. You should leave," he said, though he made no attempt to loosen his strong grip on her wrists.

"You were going to kill me."

He felt oddly smug, and a feeling of accomplishment made him stand taller. "So you finally found out, did you? I'm impressed."

Mira struggled against his grip, and the energy around her started condensing and flowing more freely again. "You were going to kill me," she said again, her voice going up an octave.

"I know I was. It was my idea. Thanks for reminding me."

With her fighting against him, he couldn't help but to chuckle. She was small, barely weighed a thing, and Zan was sure that she couldn't hold her own for long if she tried. She was short, her frame was slight, and she had just enough muscle to look decently healthy, but even if he were human, she wouldn't have stood a chance against him no matter how much she resisted. Yet, her she was, fighting against him with every weak burst of power she could manage. He didn't feel doubt or defeat. What he felt was determination, frustration, and anger. She pulled against his grip, and he imagined that she wouldn't give up the opportunity to bite him if he got close enough.

"You tricked me. For months, you acted like my friend. You acted like you--" She bit her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to pry her wrists out of his hands.

"Acted like I what? Watch what you say. You wouldn't want me to laugh."

Mira muttered and pulled away from him, going nowhere. "Like you cared, Zan. You acted like you cared." She took a deep breath, and for a moment, she stopped fighting against him. She hung her head and closed her eyes. "I cared. I thought you did too."

He didn't feel defeat from her like he had expected. Instead, he felt something heavy and overwhelming. Her energy felt like a cloud thick enough to drown in. It masked the anger and the frustration, leaving only the weight that threatened to hold anyone in its path down until they suffocated.

"Were the stories you told me true?" she asked quietly. She was looking up at him, her eyes looked duller than they had been before. "Were they? The ones about your father?"

Zan snorted and held his head high, looking down at her. He raised his arm and forced her higher up, and she struggled to keep her toes touching the ground. "That's not your business."

Mira whimpered and went limp in his grip. "He always seemed so awful." She winced as Zan squeezed her wrists. "I've seen the scars, Zan. Jack told me about more of them." She took a deep breath and picked her chin up. Her eyes were hard on his, and even though they were wet around the edges, they were clear and sharp. "If this is who you are, you're no better than he is. You're just as bad as him."

Zan snarled and yanked Mira up, squeezing her wrists until he heard them pop. She gasped and whimpered, but her gaze was back on him. Her breathing was heavy, and Zan could feel her fear, but she didn't look away. She didn't give in while his own anger intensified, and she kept her head high in defiance.

"Get out," he said shortly. He released her wrists and pushed her toward the door. "I swear I'll kill you if you don't."

She rubbed her wrists but never looked away from him as she backed up against the door. She twisted the handle and winced as a sharp pain shot through her arm. "I never acted, Zan. I always cared." Mira glanced down at her wrists, then to Zan's hands. "And I still do." She closed the door behind her.

Zan's breathing was sharp, and his heart banged savagely against his chest. Slowly, a raw scent filled the room, and his pulse pounded even more heavily in his ears. His eyes darted around the room frantically until they finally settled on his own hands at his side. Drops of blood stained his fingers underneath his nails where he had dug them into Mira's skin.

He narrowed his eyes and snarled, quickly wiping the blood from his hands. He glared at the door even though he knew Mira wouldn't be coming back. She had fought him with everything that she had despite knowing that he could have killed her without remorse. Zan sat back down on his bead and laid back to stare at the ceiling again. Slowly, his heart rate returned to normal, and he felt his own anger simmer.

When the door opened again, Zan didn't move. He heard someone clamber in, kick shoes into a corner, and collapse on the bed across from his.

"I passed Mira in the hall. She didn't even say hi. Did you guys fight or something?"

Zan glanced over to see Jack sitting propped up on his own bed with a pillow behind him. He shook his head. "She knows."

"Oh." Jack picked at the corners of his pillow, plucking a feather out and examining it before letting it fall to the floor. "Did she bring me up?"

"Upon other things." Zan started tracing the shape of the tiles above him in his head. "You shouldn't have told her about the scars."

"She was worried." Jack pulled another feather out of his pillow. "Other things as in your dad?" Zan shrugged, and Jack sighed and flopped back onto the pile of blankets. He wondered how many times he had found Zan in their room just staring at the ceiling, counting and recounting tiles. "You aren't him, you know."

Zan stared at one of the ceiling lights and tried to figure out how many minutes it would take for white spots to start dotting across his vision. He wondered if all of the rooms in the building had eighty-four tiles and if Mira was in her room counting them too or if she was at her desk hunched over her sketch book trying to get someone's jaw angle just right. He had caught her trying to draw him more than once, and lately, he had been letting her finish, not hinting that he knew she was studying him. He wondered if she would ever willingly show him her sketches so he wouldn't be tempted to sneak in a peek when she wasn't paying attention.

"I know."

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For the record, I didn't realize how stupid this pose was and how much it didn't fit Zan until I'd started coloring, and by then I didn't feel like starting over, so I just went with it. xD;

Zan is a kind of shape-shifting demon, and Jack grew up with him. He mostly used as a scapegoat, but over the years, they grew close. I wouldn't say that they were really friends, just acquaintances who accepted the others' presence, but starting a few months before this scene, they started getting a little closer to a point where Jack considers Zan a friend.

Mira is a human girl, and to some extent, yes. Zan had every intention of killing her. It was part of a long term plan, and Mira was the first one he found and decided to use her to see if his plan would work. He put on the pleasant, friendly face to lure her in, but eventually, Mira found out what he was and what he had planned.


References: [link] [link]
Texture: WebTreats ETC
Characters / art / story (c) *sazzy-riza