9Night is truly beautiful. Honestly, I am a night person. I have always preferred night over day, since I was very young. I have loved night, way before THAT happened.
But let's not about THAT yet. I don't like talking about it.
Instead, let me tell you about night. Night is calm, it is when everyone sleeps and there is no one there to judge you on how you look, or who you seem to be. It is when the Earth becomes a realm of peace for the damned, a secret society for the creatures of the night. It is where the human's worst fears come to life, when the vampires, boogiemen and demons come to life.
Night has since the beginning of time been something most humans feared. They felt insecure, vulnerable and their fear grew when the dark side of the world came. Everything seems more frightening at night. . . at least. . . for those who do not know of it's beauty.
Some humans understand. . . others reject and refuse to believe. . .
Believe what?
That there truly are creatures like me out there. . .
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"Hey Fang! Hey!"
The silver-haired man stopped, allowing the one that was following him to catch up. Panting heavily, the other teen ran up to him and stopped. Hands in his pockets, Fang sent a cool, detached look at the black-haired man that had been following him.
"Fang, I've been following you for a while and. . ." The younger one started quickly, but got cut off.
"Yes, I heard you, Steve. If you want to go into stealth and tracking, I suggest you look over your technique." Fang didn't even send him another look, his voice smooth and lazy, and he suddenly started walking again down the darkening street.
Stunned, Steve breathed in deeply, trying to calm down his hammering heart. He then walked on after the slightly older man, trying to keep up with his fast, yet relaxed pace. He looked like he was determinedly heading somewhere, yet without much haste. Fascinated, Steve stayed quiet for a moment, watching Fang in a way he thought discrete.
"You can stop staring." Fang pointed out softly without even looking at the other. Steve looked away, embarrassed. The older man was indeed very intimidating, and getting caught staring at him was very awkward.
Yet there was something about him so intriguing, one could not help but wish for a few minutes to study him correctly.
They walked on down the street without a goal, until the younger man decided to confront Fang about why he had followed him. Pushing back his raven hair, stormy eyes set, Steve took a deep breath, but again didn't have time to even start, and the silver-haired man already answered smartly.
"The answer is no, Steve."
Confused, the younger man frowned, but continued walking.
"You don't even know what. . ." He started, and again, got interrupted.
"Yes I do, Steve. It would have been the same question you asked me hundreds of times, and always got the same answer to it. It is no. I stand by my words." Fang said softly.
Hurt, Steve scowled. "Can you stop doing that?" He demanded quickly, before the older man could interrupt him.
Fang stopped abruptly. Immediately, Steve put a bit of distance between them, thinking he had angered the silver-haired man. Slowly, Fang turned his face to the younger man.
Steve looked up at him, and his gaze faltered as he met that of the silver-haired man. What he saw in his eyes was a sorrow so deep and passionate it could never be lifted, a hate for all things that could hate back and a fierce rage that burned like the fires of Hell. Fang's eyes were not of this world.
"You do not know what you want." Fang assured, dark eyes glinting almost pitifully. The sun had fallen, giving his handsome face a grey, haunted look.
Steve closed his eyes and sighed. "How can you know what I want. . . ?" He asked softly. The streets were empty; no one would overhear them. . .
Soothing, Fang put a hand on his shoulder. Steve looked up, startled, met his gaze and let his eyes drop again.
"I was not given this life. Someone I never even saw in my life forced it onto me. It was forced onto me because I desired escape from humanity, because I wanted to be free. But it was not freedom I received. It was a life of fear and demise, prolonged abnormally, which forced me to see generations come and go without ever being a part of them.
'I live, Steve, but I am dead. I run free, but I am caged. I am different, but I am damned. Do not wish this life upon yourself, for you will regret it.
'Bare in mind that I am not acting as a friend, but as monster who wishes not to force another to live the same life in Hell." He stopped abruptly and a heavy silence instilled itself between the two men. Steve took this time to carefully study the man before him.
His gaunt face seemed dead as his heavy eyes watched the younger man, hands casually in his pockets. Fang's silver hair shimmered in the darkness, as the night waited for the full moon to rise.
Finally the young man scowled courageously and glared at Fang.
"Show me." He ordered breathlessly.
Fang seemed taken aback. "Excuse me?" His voice was soft, yet dangerous.
Steve nodded. "That's right. Show me what you become. Show me what it is, and let me make my own decision."
Neither men said a thing, and Steve waited for Fang to say something. His silence was unnerving, as were his dark eyes, glaring almost angrily. . .
"No."
Fang turned away and continue walking. Stunned, Steve stayed rooted on the spot for a few seconds, before shaking his head and racing after the older man.
"Fang! Stop it! I WANT to see! Fang!" He almost ran into him when Fang stopped abruptly and turned around, fire burning in his eyes.
"I said no. You will not be, and you will not see what I am. It's too dangerous." He turned away again and continued walking. Steve scowled angrily; he hated being treated like a child, no matter by whom it was. He may have been three years younger than Fang, who was nineteen, but that didn't allow the older man to treat him that way.
The sixteen-year-old dashed after Fang.
"You can't stop me from seeing you transform!" He snarled. Instantly, he knew he had gone too far.
With a swift, calculated movement, Fang turned around; his hand flew out of his pocket with speed and grace, and before Steve knew what was happening, he was struggling to breathe as the silver-haired man single-handedly pinned him by the neck to the wall of an old building.
"Do NOT push your luck, Steve. What you are asking for has far greater danger in it than you can ever imagine. If I transform before you, you will die. You will NOT receive any powers; you will die. Do you understand? There is nothing to this life that you would want. Forget you ever heard the truth; forget you ever believed what everyone else rejected; forget you ever even saw me, and go back home." Fang hissed. He let go of the boy's neck, and he fell to heap on the ground, chocking, holding his throat as a bruise began appearing all around it.
"Fang. . .' The boy stuttered, still gasping for air. He looked up, but the man had already walked away, glancing nervously at the sky, where the moon would soon appear. 'I have no home. . ."
Fang stopped, but shrugged carelessly. "Then you're a fool to believe you'd belong with the werewolves."
Night swallowed the silver-haired werewolf, and Steve was left alone in the dark street, looking at the shadows that surrounded him, wishing he could just vanish into them.
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