Fairytale Ending

Forgive the beginning and the end. It was written for a challenge, the begginning having to use 'Drip... drip... drip...' and the ending having to mention rain. Enjoy! Criticism and feedback would be appreciated!

Drip… Drip… Drip…
The house was cold, and the steady splash of water into an overflowing bucket the only thing that could be heard other than slightly laboured breathing. He was alone, when it came down to it. They came with their dying flowers and their pretty words, but there was an uneasy glint to their eyes, and they left soon after, unable to stand the sickly rasp of his breath. Why? He saw it in their eyes – the accusation: ‘You deserve it.’ Outwardly, they pitied him, but he could see them for what they really were – liars. They didn’t care – no one cared, and this was proved by the fact that he was alone, shivering under the mucky sheets, wasting away. Everyone said he should go to the hospital – but they didn’t care enough to make the stubborn man go. After all, what if it was catching?

They assumed so much. He was gay, and he was wasting. They could see that much – he tried to stop them from seeing how bad he was, hated their false pity. Pity was bad enough, but what they gave him was so much worse. A few sympathetic noises, and then they would mention how thin he was when he reached to take their hand, fingers skeletal, skin almost transparent. They would recoil when his clammy flesh brushed theirs, and then they would say he should go to the hospital. They didn’t bother pushing that far, though – all so superficial, none really cared and he deserved it, didn’t he? Besides, they figured that a hospital could do nothing for him, now. They knew in their guts that it was AIDS… that it was only a matter of time. They tried hard not to touch him. Once they had visited, they never came back to see him again.

Human life – so fragile. His eyes were closed and there was an ominous pause between each of his breaths. It was like he was keeping time to the drips. Drip - inhale, drip – exhale. Drip… drip… drip… drip… gone. The pause between lengthened, continued. But he was alone – no one was there to hold their breaths, as they waited for his chest to rise again, not even the world. The drips continued, just as his life didn’t. The emaciated man became a corpse, just like that. It was so easy to snuff that last bit of life out, so easy.

Only then did footsteps come, the tread as quiet as a stalking feline, but audible given the stillness. Blue eyes twitched toward the bucket, the noise distracting before they settled on the bed, his head tilted just slightly. Gone. The vampire didn’t like to watch them die – it was a slow process. Not really painful, but still not as nice to watch. The man was not so pretty now – in fact, he was completely repulsive. However, right before the creature’s eyes the dead man’s skin filled out slightly, his cheeks became so pale as to be Snow White. The brittle grey hairs around the pillow, greyed with illness and not age, gained a lustrous black sheen, and his lips became crimson red.

Now such a beauty, the vampire just wanted to lean down and plunder the sweet flesh. He was just awaiting a kiss to waken him. Perfect in every sense of the word. He knew that the body under would be all lean grace, long muscle, neither too thin nor too fat, built for optimum speed and strength. He was now the ultimate being, and like the others of his kind, was most beautiful. Even in death. Of course, Maverick was just like him – perfect beauty, with his curled blonde hair and baby blue eyes. However, there was an emptiness to those eyes, a lack of humanity, perhaps, as his lips parted slightly, just observing for a while.

It was actually rather sadistic, waiting like this, simply observing, but the blonde knew that his new companion was completely helpless – and trapped within his own head. Maverick could have done whatever he liked to the beautiful body before him, and the male would have not been able to do a thing. Pale lips pursed thoughtfully, but what decided him was that Jonathon (for that was the name of the one deceased) would not have been able to feel the pain of having his body plundered so.

Maverick stepped forward, standing right next to the bed of his lover-to-be, his protégé, the one that would spend hundreds of years with him, more beautiful now than even when he had met him in the most typical of places – a dingy club. There was an uncertain pause. Was he really ready for such a commitment? He could leave him now… leave them to bury him, though some would think the condition of the body odd, and Jonathon would be trapped inside his own head for all eternity. He had no conscience – he saw nothing wrong with this. Then he was reminded of the loneliness of his own existence, and just like that he swooped down.

The black cloak covered them both as pale lips met ruby red. The Prince had come for his Sleeping Beauty, and the kiss was soft, even tender. Jewel green orbs fluttered open, and took a moment to focus as the one above drew back, eyes meeting. The beauty had awakened, for that is the way of such things, the perfect fairytale ending, just like any other. The world did not even blink – such occurrences were not that unusual.
Still, the rain fell.