~Taste~ (Vincentã—Rody) Guest Staying

{ฯRodyฯ}

   I had checked earlier, the window and door were locked. Did I want to leave? Honestly, no.. I looked at my neck in the mirror, wincing as I gently touched the deep bruised bite marks. It was around 4 a.m., and the ticking of the clock in the room was the only noise I could hear, other than the occasional passing car. I grabbed the washcloth, and dampened it a bit. I put it against my neck, and walked over to the bed, sitting down again, looking at the ground. Mannon is dead.. I felt my heart drop a bit to my stomach. Mannon is dead, and he killed her… Why don’t I run away, or let myself die, so I’m with her.? Purposely do something wrong, kill him for revenge. I sighed a bit, and closed my eyes for a moment. Why hasn’t Vincent killed me yet-..? While thinking, I heard glass clatter, and crash to the ground. It sounded like it had shattered. I looked towards the door, knowing that even if the door was unlocked, I probably shouldn’t check it out. I listened as pacing footsteps walked all around the apartment room, and then headed back to Vincent’s room.

   His door practically slammed shut, and it was quiet again. I got up, and walked to the door, attempting to open it. If I were to check it out now, it’d be much safer. I grabbed a bobby pin out of my pocket, a random one I had grabbed from the floor of the room. I tried lockpicking the door, no expert of course. But after a bit of trying, the door clicked, and I twisted the door knob, swinging the door open quietly. I crouched a bit, still wary, but crept to the room where it sounded like glass had broken. I found myself in the kitchen, again saw one of the fine wine glasses had been broken, and the wine bottle was still open on the counter. “So, we’ve learnt nothing about sneaking around.” I jumped, and looked towards Vincent, backing up a bit, still terrified of him. He watched me, holding a cloth to his left hand, which was slowly starting to turn redder and redder. He kept eye contact with me.

   “You’re going to step in the glass, if you keep walking that way,” He said, wrapping his hand with the cloth. I stopped walking, and looked behind me, realizing I was one step away from landing in the glass. I looked back at him, and saw as he turned his attention to the wine bottle. He twisted the cap back on, and put it away. He walked around the glass, and left the kitchen. He didn’t attack me-.. He could’ve pushed me into the glass, and he didn’t… I heard as a record started to be played, and a small sigh from the living room. I thought back to when he rubbed the back of my head after I hit it. After a bit, I walked to the living room, and sat down on the other end of the couch. 

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 {¤Vincent¤}

   I watched as he sat down, looking towards the record as it played. I could tell he was scared, it was obvious to anyone who had half a brain. But there was something else there that I couldn’t quite make out. He didn’t try to escape, or plead his way out of this. Possibly he thinks that there’s still a way to get Mannon back. What a love-sick fool. Does he not understand?

   Mannon, Mannon, Mannon. He’d always talk about her, and it drove me mad. The girl obviously didn’t want anything to do with him, but he couldn’t see it. Usually, I use the critics that patronize me, stating my food doesn’t feel full of love. But I’d allowed myself to make an exception.

   “Is it bad.?” I snapped out of thought, and looked towards Rody, who was looking at my hand. I subconsciously grabbed it with my other hand, out of his sight. “No, it’s fine.” I answered. He looked back towards the record. I continued to watch him. His breathing was a bit quicker than usual, his hands were shaking, and he was holding them together, his hair was a mess, which was my doing, and his right leg was bouncing up and down. He’s horrible at keeping himself together. “Why aren’t you trying to leave.” I asked. I knew if he did try, I’d kill him on the spot. He knew too much, but it would be a waste. I could finally taste, finally know what something tastes like. It wasn’t ideal, of course, but it was addicting to say the least. “Because, I don’t want to,” He answered, glancing towards me occasionally. What? No, he’s lying. I kept my interest and curiosity inside, not letting it seep out.

   Rody confused me, and I hated it. And loved it. Kept me on my toes, kept me guessing. He was predictable in some situations, but I’d never seen him in a life or death situation. And how he’s acting wasn’t something I had even thought of. He didn’t run, he didn’t fight, he’s no longer yelling or screaming, he seems almost calm, if you ignore all the signs of his anxiousness. Why do you want to stay? What’s keeping you here, Lamoree. I felt the ounce of hope I had had shine again. Maybe for the same reason I want him to stay. “If I were to leave, you’d kill me..” Fucking, Lamoree. “Then I suggest you go to the guest room again, before you annoy me any further.” I stated, keeping myself from yelling at him in anger, in the anger that was rising, and wanting to show.

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{ฯRodyฯ}

   I looked towards him. “You should get some rest too, you’re obviously tired-.” I mumbled, starting to feel my courage again. His eyes didn’t move from my face, the relentless icy gaze seemed to worsen. “I don’t listen to food.” He spat, resting his head in his hand, which’s arm was laying on the arm rest. I hated what he called me. This was just him playing with his food, a toy. I persisted, though. “I mean it, you’re exhausted, that’s why you dropped that glass,” I sat up a bit, and stopped fidgeting with my hands. He scoffed, and stood up. He walked over to the record player, turning the music off, then walked back towards me. Instinctively, I sat back into the couch cushions. He leaned over me, and close to my face, placing one hand on the arm rest, and the other by my side. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do. I suggest you keep your mouth shut, before I bite your tongue off.”

   We stayed like this for a few moments, and I hesitated, but knew I needed to do something to end it. I leaned closer to his face, closing the gap, and kissed him. He jumped, and pulled away. He wiped his lips off with his sleeve, and looked at me. The look in his eyes was odd, it wasn’t rage or anger. I couldn’t tell what it was. “Just go to the room, Rody.” He kept his arm over his mouth, and closed his door loudly behind himself. I sighed a bit, and leaned back onto the couch. Does he have to pull away each time.? I finally got up, and walked back to the guest room, deciding to try and call it a night. I didn’t want him to kill me, I wanted him to open up to me. How the hell do I get him to do that..