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[orig] Sui Cid Aire

Title: Sui Cid Aire
Universe: Original - 'Luke's Universe'
Fandom: [True Original]
Word Count:5,013
Summary: (one of my first original characters) READ!!
[Restricted: Page limit - contest peace] 

su•i•cide   (su əˌsaɪd) noun, verb
1. the intentional taking of one's own life.
2. destruction of one's own interests or prospects:
3. a person who intentionally takes his or her own life.
4. being or performing a deliberate act resulting in the voluntary death of the person who does it.
5. to kill (oneself).

                It feels like honey.
                The floor is cold, desolate and angry with him. The smell is almost overpowering, tacky, sticking to the inside of his nostrils. It's the sharp stab of copper - pulled in with choppy breaths - the smell of puke, distant - that makes it almost unbearable. Almost.
                Sometime's, when he feels his heart beat, he can see the slash discharge the honey looking liquid. He isn't even sure its blood any more - perhaps it's just plasma - how can a body hold this much blood? He feels like he's laying in honey. The blood must have seeped into the rug near the door, possibly the only shield he has from people finding him. It had to have touched the desk already, congealing around the legs - his clothes are soaked.
                Luke sighs, a crinkling sound, and hefts his other arm up to check the time. His watch reads a bleary 4:36AM. Two hours of bleeding out and he's still not dead.
                He sits up, peeling his skin from the cold floor and the tacky blood, and runs a hand through his hair.
                The jagged, raw cut slits from the heel of his hand all the way up to his elbow. It had bleed profoundly at first - weakening his knees and kicking is feet out from under him - but now it sits quiet, a rusty looking open wound. Luke tenses his shoulder and curls his fist into a ball; A few rivets break the surface of the forming scab - but other than that, nothing.
                He's woozy when he stands - grabbing the bunk bed for stability, if only for a moment - then drops his gaze to the mess on the floor. An almost perfect outline of his upper body sits untouched in the tacky mess. Luke smiles at the blood angel, but the smile falls away instantly.
                Luke doesn’t feel dead all. Only tired, and pissed off that he has to clean up another mess.
                He sighs, cracks his neck, and starts the small coffee pot.
                "You tried again last night, didn't you?" Cory says, softly. Everything about Cory is soft. Luke wants to hit him for it. Someone so smart and bright should not be that soft…
                "What if I did?"
                Cory's face sours, a deepening of the wrinkles above his brow.
                "You promised that we could be there this time." Jen bites. Her hair is wickedly short - she must have cut it last night. Luke crosses his arms - wearing a sweatshirt today, despite the warmth - because healing attempted-suicide scars will get you noticed.
                "It's not as if I planned it." He says, gruff.
                "Which attempt is this?" Cory asks. He's got his book out now - full of pictures and little notes. His glasses are askew on his face. "I've got eighteen noted since the start of the semester."
                "That sounds about right." Luke says. Twenty three, he corrects in his head.
                Jen's face stills, her movements sturdy. Her eyes are blue and they plead with Luke all the time. He always hates himself for looking at her eyes. "I really wish you wouldn’t do this anymore. It's not working, Luke. You might as well face the music and –“
                "I hate this music." Luke spits, tired of this fight – tired of this life already - and turns his face away. His fingers itch to hurt himself. There’s a moment where neither of them speak.
                Cory breaks it, slowly. "...you up to coming to class today?"
                A smile crackles its way across Luke’s face. His eyes, though, are dead. "Sure! I feel fantastic."
                No one laughs.

                David opens the door and jumps, sucking in a sharp breath. He curses, loud, and steps inside - slamming the door and locking it behind him. His eyes, through the facade of anger, are amused. "Christ, dude! - You cannot keep doing this to me!"
                Luke sighs, or tries too, but he's stopped breathing already. Instead he raises his eyebrows, kindly, and looks over toward the chair tucked under his desk. David drops his bag and moves for the chair. Luke itches his stomach as David finagles the chairs legs under his feet - knocking against his leg, swinging him. David’s face is in his a moment later and Luke is happy at the prospect that he perhaps blacked out for a moment or two.
                "How'd you do it this time?" David sighs, cutting the thick cord a few inches above the top of the noose. Luke comes free with a jerk, and they both fall forward - David ready and Luke suddenly breathing. Luke's roommate sets him in the chair and fishes a Coke out of the fridge. He opens it and hands it to him, silent, waiting for an answer.
                "From the bed." Luke hisses, voice horse. His throat is rough and aches softly. "Jumped."
                David rolls his eyes and moves for his bag. "Bet you cracked your back something fierce."
                David is the only person that can make him laugh about this. He's the only one who is just as nonchalant as Luke is himself. Cory and Jen care too much.
                That must happen with being completely human, then. They all seem to care so much.
                "How long were you hanging?"
                "Almost three h-hours..."
                David pulls a pharmaceutical bag from his backpack, a syringe in his mouth - eyes just as dead as Luke’s. The brown of his eyes is flakey and sour in color, the exact hue a granny smith apple gets when left out for two long. Rotten apple. David's eyes study the mark on Luke’s neck as he pulls his sleeve up. He shakes the small, clear bottle, and pulls the syringe cap off with his teeth. He fills it with practiced ease and slips it into his arm – quick. Its sudden, but a smile lights David's face.
                "Nice neck tie." David manages, mouth full, and Luke laughs so hard he starts coughing up blood.

                "He's a bad influence on you." Jen says. Luke laughs, rough - throat still sore.
                "I'm a bad influence on you." Luke counters. They're having lunch, and Luke thinks he's the only one out of the pair that feels weird without Cory there. Jen is persuasive - Luke relies on Cory to keep things on track, so to speak.
                Jen shrugs it off. "Small sacrifices to keep you as a friend."
                "…Stop before you start."
                "I know." She says, softly - with a sigh in her voice. It frustrates him, how easily she can persuade him to stop trying, just by making a simple noise.

                "You haven't tried beheading." Cory offers. Luke has his philosophy book open on his face and a exacto blade in his neck.
                "To messy." David says, pencil in his mouth. Luke can hear the smile in his voice. "For me at least. I hate cleaning up my own mess. It still smells like puke in here, Luke."
                "I did say sorry about that." Luke says, swallowing. He can feel the tiny blade wiggle and cut with his words. The feeling sends tingles down to his fingertips.
                "You better be over something with that in your neck." David clips. "'m not cleaning up your shit."
                "There's a towel under me."
                "Better not be my towel-"
                "Electrocution?" Cory says.
                David waves that off. "Useless. You get staidly charged for months."
                Luke laughs, a short huffs, and feels the exacto dig a little deeper.
                "Explosives?" Cory says.
                "You have explosives on your person?" Luke asks, yanking the blade from his neck. He lets it clatter on the floor next to him, tiny tinkering sound, and wipes his neck.
                He can hear Cory pout. "No."
                The air is tense for a moment, than David laughs. "I could get some..."
                Luke snorts. "I want to die, not blow myself up. There two different things. What else?"

                "I hope you're having a good time there." Barbra - his mother - mumbles into his ear. Luke has a grin on his face.
                "Wonderful." Luke licks the blade - testing it on his tongue - and types in 'local railroad tracks' into his Google window.
                "How is David doing?" His mother asks, voice high. "He's such a nice boy..."
                Luke looks over his should to where David is sitting, plastic bag ducked taped around his neck - tight - tapping his fingers on the desk as if he's waiting impatiently for someone or something. The perfect outline of his face, mouth and everything stretches across the plastic. He’s been like that for twenty minutes. Luke hums and rolls his eyes.
                "He's good." 

                "There's a 6:13 train that I can catch on Saturday." Luke says, glue bottle in hand. Jen watches as Luke takes another sip from it - like its coffee. Really thick, yellow coffee.
                "I would rather not come with you for that." She says.
                Luke has his sweatshirt off - for the first time that week - and Cory is sketching the ripped and raw look that the blade made on his arm from the beginning of the week. Luke's neck feels normal enough, but the burse - Jen noted - looks wicked. She told him so while touching her own neck with thin fingers. Luke pushes that out of his head and twitches when the pad of Cory's finger brushes a rough edge of his slash.
                "I'll come." David say, entering the room, wiping his hands with a towel. "If only to watch. You know what really pisses me off - the fact that I can swallow a bottle of pills and feel fine, but eating at the dining hall makes me feel like I actually am dying."
                Luke laughs. Jen snorts and takes a sip of her coffee. Cory sits back, pencil still, than turns to David - a curious expression on his face.
                "...do you mind if I ask you a bit of a personal question?" Cory asks.
David's eyebrows furrow, ever so slightly. "You can ask, but I can’t guarantee that I'll answer."
                The end of Cory's pencil ends up between his lips as he speaks. His eyes are sharp. "Well...why do you keep trying? To kill yourself, I mean…"
                David's eyebrow climbs, if only for a moment. "...why do you care?"
                Cory purses his lips, dropping his eyes to his sketchpad. Luke's arm is sprawled, in black and white, over the paper - Cory's fingers are deft and skilled. Luke admires his hands - knows that Cory’s sketchbook is full of his injuries from the past year and a half that he's been noting them. Luke doesn’t exactly know why Cory cares either - just knows that he does.
                Luke is surprised to find out that that is enough.
                Cory shrugs, a twiggy movement of his boney shoulders, and smiles down at his sketchpad. "Because I do."
                While it's enough of an answer for Luke, David face is cold - blank. Dead - odd. Something uncomfortable fumbles in Luke’s stomach at that look – and uneasiness.
                Needless to say, David doesn’t answer.

                It's cold at 6:10 in the morning. Luke kicks his shoes off and tucks them under the car tire. David sits in the driver’s seat, a cigarette in his mouth, and takes Luke's jacket. Luke's chest is white in the morning darkness, almost completely unmarred. His arm is less raw then it was, it feels beater - almost healed - his neck is fine now.
                "How long are you willing to wait?" Luke says, ripping his watch off with his teeth. David takes it without a word. His sour-apple eyes scrunch.
                "I have class at 8."
                Luke grins. "If I’m not back before then, it worked."
                David hits him, twice, on his shoulder - the smile on his face is unimpressed. Luke takes off at a brisk jog, over the hill leading to the train tracks. They're tucked low in the ground - Luke seats himself on a wood plank and waits.
                At 6:15, the rocks around him start to vibrate. Luke sniffs, glances up at the sky, and takes a long breath out. He sets his feat between the two long metal tracks and waits.
                Sometimes - like when he's standing in the cold night, bare-chested, waiting for something to come at him - Luke wonders what really is keeping him tied to this word. There's a roaring of a whistle - the thundering of wheels - and a blaring light hits Luke's face and he takes a long breath.

    Something touches his back.

                Luke lets his long breath out, shaking - hair fluttering in the wake of the train. His feet are still planted in the same exact spot, arms dangling by his sides - his body humming with something more then anticipation. Something shakes in the core of his being -shivering and writhing and very, very alive. Silence follows in the wake of the train. Something whispers along the bridge of his shoulders, cold and numbing. Luke doesn’t dare turn around, in case something is actually there - actually touching him.
                "She likes you." David's voice rings clear. Luke has stopped breathing - finds that he doesn't need to - eyes jerking toward the other man. David’s eyes - normally dead - are glowing a faint gold. His face is bright, lit by the glow of his eyes. "I was surprised to find someone else she liked..."
                Luke says, very distinctly. "...what are you talking about?"
                David exhales, a long puff of white smoke, but there isn't a cigarette in his mouth. "Yami."
                Something laughs, a dark pull of the night, and Luke feels something slide inside of him. Something cracks in his head, sharp - the smell of the night is sudden - his eyes burn. A scream, loud and earsplitting, erupts from the base of his spine and runs forward, crashing around his head and pitching Luke foward. Pain is something Luke knows, but this pain - unjustified and unwanted - makes him scream out loud.
                "You don’t understand how long…" David sighs, rolling his shoulders. Luke can hear him over the sound in his head, despite being driven to his knees by the sharp stabbing sensation that has flushed his face. A rough hand yanks Luke's face up, forces his eyes open, and he meets David's eyes - low and bright. They make his head scream even more. "…I’ve been waiting for you?"
                Luke's vision is blacked out, only for a moment, but suddenly he can See.
                "What the hell -" Luke barks, rough, but David isn't all David any more. There's something hovering around him, and extra layer of skin a few centimeters above his own. Its eyes are gold, bright, hazing out David's almost completely. Luke finds that he can't remember what he was going to say.
                "Almost right." David says, smile sharp. "Come back to the car. I'll explain."
                For a long moment, Luke isn't sure if he can move at all. If he should just wait for the next train and try again.

                "Death Walker?"
                David nods, stuffing a breakfast sandwich into his mouth. That extra being that had been hovering over David’s skin seamed to seep back in, so only now when David makes quick, jerky movement can Luke see the haze follow him. Luke finds that his hands are shaking now, he feels weird - he refuses to pay attention to the haze around his hands or face.
                "We've died before - somehow." David says, wiping stray ketchup off his lips with the back of his hand. "Perhaps when you were young? ...You had a near death accident, and somehow managed to hang onto life and make a miraculous recovery, right?"
                Luke remembers the feeling of cold water everywhere, of not breathing - of the warmth of that feeling."Yeah." He says, soft.
                David nods and goes for his drink. "Well, it wasn't as 'miraculous' as the doctors made it seem. We died - I was shot, I know, long story - and we were brought back to life. By a demon."
                Luke stares. "...a what?"
                David shrugs, drinking deeply - until the ice crackles at the bottom of his cup - then sighs and throws the cup into the tray. "Not a demon, necessarily. A spirit of death – though, in most religions they're considered demons. Luckily for us, we both bagged a good one." David furrows his eyebrows, for a moment. "Or a bad one, I guess. A powerful one."
                "Yami?" Luke prompts. Something stirs in his chest. David nods - in the bright light of the McDonalds, he looks so normal. His shaggy hair obscures his eyes, just a little.
                "The counterpart to my demon." David sticks a fry in his mouth and sits back. "Considered, in Tibetan beliefs at least, to rule half the underworld."
                "I get the other half." He leans forward and snags Luke's drink. "Naturally."
                Luke can't help but smile. "Naturally."
                David nods and sips at Luke's Coke. "Now, pertaining to our suicidal tendencies..."
                Luke takes a careful look around, noting that no one is sitting close enough to hear them - but they are in public. David pays no attention to them, charging forward. "It's our craving for death. Our need to feel something die. Not only does the need make it unbearable to live, but it forces you to want to cause harm – to yourself, or someone else."
                Luke furrows his eyebrows. "I've never -"
                "Bull." David calls, leaning forward, snapping Luke’s words off before he says them. Something flutters in Luke’s chest, fierce and aggravated. David's eyes, now that Luke can See them - really See them - gleam a dark and angry gold, sharp and aggressive. Silence settles between them, soft, and then David breathes.
                "Alright. Whatever." David stands, grabbing their tray, and Luke barley has time to snatch his hashbrown off of it before David is moving.

                David runs head long into a woman near the door, causing her to drop her tray. The clatter attacks attention, and David's apologizing over and over - but Luke can see something moving over David’s skin, sliding over his arms, liquid - almost opaque - white. One of David's hands brush the woman’s - a brief second of contact - as they're cleaning up the mess together, and like a snap that shimmering illusion is gone. David drops the both empty trays on top of the trash can nearby, smiles at the woman, and turns on his heal. He catches Luke's eye - the gold in them shimmering and bright - and smiles. Luke is sure, with his entire being, that David has fangs.
                The woman drops to the floor not a second after, her hand to her chest and a surprised expression on her face, before falling backwards and convulsing.
                The place is in an uproar almost immediately - David grabs Luke by his arm and drags him out and to the car as fast as possible.
                Luke can't forget the look on the woman's face. The fear.

                "You killed her." Luke says as they're parking in the campus parking lot.
                David itches his nose and laughs. It's a bright sound. "Yeah. So?"
                "Why?" he says, small, and David laughs louder.
                 "Why not?" He sniffs, eyes calming down to the sour color they were before. "They're all going to die. It's only a matter of time. Come with me and do it some time. That will explain everything…"
                Luke grins and waits until David slips into his class before running to the closest bathroom and throwing up.

                "I don’t understand..." Jen says, quiet.
                "I don’t either." Luke admits.
                Cory's writing in his book, his pencil flashing. "...did he tell you the name of his Demon?"
                Luke blinks. "No. I didn't even think of asking..."
                Cory has brains - Luke can see them working - something calculating behind his hazy look. "He called you Yami."
                Something shifts in Luke’s chest, hits against his ribcage - reaching out. Luke feels the physical pull, but he crosses his arms and holds his chest together - doesn’t let that feeling out. "Yeah, and...d -don’t say her name, alright?"
                Cory's eyes skim over him, quick, before he nods. He packs op his things, eyebrows furrowed, and stands. Luke watches, careful - afraid. Really afraid. He realizes, with a deep wrenching feeling, that he actually does not want to lose his friends. Cory smiles at him though, slipping his bag around his shoulder. Weather he sees that fear in Luke's eyes or not, he doesn’t show it. "I'm going to do research. I want to find out more about...this demon."
                Luke nods, grateful that he doesn’t have to look for himself. Cory reaches for the doorknob, but it moves before his hand gets there. David almost hits him, swinging the door wide, a polite smile on his face. His eyes jump from Luke to Cory, cold - and he arches his eyebrow. Luke can feel the fear leaking from Cory - can feel something hungry in his own chest. Cory stutters out a sorry and swerves around him, not touching David in the slightest, and is off down the hall. David watches him, then turns back into the room and shuts the door. Luke can feel Jen - strongly - hesitance and fear leaking off of her. But she smiles anyway. "Afternoon, Dave."
                David's smile is cold, smooth - and for a moment, Luke can see the fangs again.

                Jen doesn’t leave his room that night. She stays, curled up against his side, breathing deeply through her nose. Luke wouldn't let her leave - not after David left again. He kept her to him, tight, warm - sucked her warmth from her lips and her skin and her breath. Luke has never had sex before - it had never interested him at all, hating people and everything - but he thinks that, perhaps, this was the best way to go about it all.
                His phone rings at 5, soft in the quiet. Luke glances at Jen - searches David's bed to find it empty - and slides his phone up. "Yeah -"
                "His name is Yama." Cory says, and something screams in his head. Luke loses himself in the sound - - Jen is shaking him. She has his phone pressed against her ear and fear in her eyes.
                "Don't do that." Luke says, quiet. His hands are shaking - even with Jen holding them. "No names."
                "He's the king of hell." Cory continues, unapologetic. "In Vedic tradition he was said to have been the first mortal who died and in virtue of precedence he became the ruler of the departed. He rules hell and determines where souls go. In some myths he is paired with a twin sister – but he wholly dominates her."
                "You think that's..." Luke starts.
                "I don’t think." Cory says. Luke can hear typing in the background. "I'm almost certain. From what you said he said, he's ruthless. Aggressive and possessive. Almost unable to die. I've read somewhere that only a demon in this position can kill another demon. But with him, I’m not sure - seeing as it's said he is the ruler of hell......."
                "What does that mean?" Luke says, already knowing. His grip on Jen's hand - her quiet breath, listening - lets him know. Cory's breathing is shaky. Something flip-flops in Luke's chest.
                "I don’t know." Cory says, knowing. His voice is rushed - breathy. "Be careful."
                Luke is staring at the empty bed across from him. Something churns, angry, where his heart sits. "You too."

                Luke stays in bed for another two minutes before shaking his head and sitting up. "We have to go get him."
                Jen's already out of bed before he finishes speaking.

                Cory's room is silent. Luke knocks again, muscles twitching, and has never felt the urge for pain like he is now. Jen rubs her thumb over his knuckles - attempting to calm. Luke growls his name, and hits the door again. He grabs the handle and watches - suddenly struck - as that same white illusion that rushed over David’s' skin the other day wraps down his arm and around the handle.
                The door swings wide open, easily. Jen's hand tenses in his - she pulls away, around and away, a moment after. Her hands are on her face, over her eyes and her mouth.
                There is blood on the window - spattered in a red arc. It's all over his desk; Cory’s laptop gone, a patch of sticky, honey blood outlines where it would have been. Luke feels cold in a way that is not good, not good at all - he can smell the blood, the darkness that has seeped into the room. Luke lets his fingertip touch the tacky liquid - he can feel fear, distress - anger.
                Luke fishes out Cory's sketchpad from where the boy normally hid it under his bed, shuts and locks the door behind him, grabs Jen's hand and all but runs down the hall.

                "What happened - " Jen starts, but Luke tugs on her arm - silencing her. They've made it as far as the parking lot. Luke is surprised, himself. He stops, sudden, fear compressing his chest. Jen stumbles into his back, pressure - life - scared. He isn't sure if he can stand it, that butterfly of a heartbeat at his back now that his fingertips are itching to damage something. Anything.
                David stands, still, in the lamp light. Around him hovers the golden-eyed demon, David’s face obscured by someone else’s - something inside Luke knows it. Knows and hates it. Luke makes himself let go of Jen's hand. "Where's Cory?"
                David smiles - a long, poisonous look on his face. Luke isn't sure of if this hurts more then suicide.
                "Away." He humms and turns, eyes dark. "Somewhere where he can't tell you lies about me. Where he can't influence you like he has. Let’s go - finally. I’ve been waiting long enough for you to come to your senses..." His eyes flash over Luke's shoulder.
                "Lies?" Luke says, high. He can feel anger - rage building in his hands and arms. "Really? Because it sounds more like the truth - from what I’ve seen recently, you're everything Cory said. Aggressive, vindictive - "
                "I'm a demon, Luke." David bites, cold. Luke feels like he's begging hit by a blade across his chest. "I'm all of these things. So are you. I lied so that you could learn – God, what’s the point. Are you coming with me, or not?"
                "You weren't lying to-"
                "To you?" David laughs, rubbing his neck. He lets his eyes drift off toward the soon-morning sky, but the demos’ eyes stay on him. It's an odd, easy look - Luke feels something growl in his own throat. David's smile is wistful and foolish. "I can pretend to be human, Luke. Pretending to be your friend was even easier. We're just so alike...."
                "I'm nothing like you!" He shouts.
                “You’re everything like me. Now let’s go – kill the girl and let’s leave.”
                Fear races up Luke’s spine – not because he’s scared of David, but because, for a moment, he wants to follow that command. Luke’s face turns cold, stone – the mist around him grows thicker, fogging his vision. “No.”
                David, after a beat, smiles. Luke can see his fangs. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
                Luke’s eyes widen – “No! –“
                It happens fast. David is moving toward them, white as a ghost - so fast Luke almost doesn’t catch it. But the white haze around him lets him See - helps him move back before he loses his eyes. He moves sideways, sudden - the ghost around him pulling his limbs without him. He feels something flash by his face - inches - but he can't move fast enough to stop -
                Jen's eyes are wide, large and fading, that spark dimming. Luke flares, reaching, but David’s hand is in her throat and then it isn't - he isn't there at all- and Luke can't catch her before her knees hit the floor. David's laugh is high, loud in the night – mocking, echoing, inviting. Something cracks in Luke's brain, splintering his soul and breaking him. Jen's reaching for his face and her neck, but Luke it’s there anymore.
                Luke whites out – rage, anger, filling his heart. Luke can feel - breath and live in the rage. He feels alive - really alive - for the first time in a long time.
White, hot, rage.

                If feels like honey.
                The floor is cold, desolate and angry with him. The smell is almost overpowering, tacky, sticking to the inside of his nostrils. It's the sharp stab of copper - pulled in with choppy breaths -that makes it unbearable. Shatteringly unbearable.
                Sometime's, when he feels his heart beat, he can see the world shift - wavering with a unique glow and shine. Illusions hover around the corner of his eyes, leaving the world slightly hazy and not real. He's walking through a dream - life isn't real at all, is it? 
                Luke sighs, a crinkling sound of his heart breaking, and holds Jen - quiet and cold - to his chest. His watch reads a bleary 4:36AM.
                He's woozy when he stands - nothing to grab onto this time, his chest empty - heart hollow. David's blood is on his hands, but he's nowhere to be found - gone, leaving a trail for him to follow - to hunt. Revenge feels good, thrumming through his cold body. Luke smiles at the bloody angel on the ground, but the smile falls away - broken.

                Luke knows he isn’t dead at all.
                                Only now, he is.