Drawn To You (boyxboy)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christian

The room seemed to get smaller each time I paced back and forth. A cool strong breeze wafted in through the window, and the trees outside chorused with an array of rustling sounds. Meanwhile, I continually wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans as I wandered with an aimless intent around the room.

I saw – or at least I thought I saw – a tiny movement in the corner of my eye. I stopped pacing for a second and rushed to the side of the bed. I watched carefully, anticipating and hoping for a sign of movement. Nothing. He simply lay there, soundless, lifeless, as he had for the past hour.

I sighed anxiously and reached for Peter's hair, pushing it back from his forehead. I grabbed the damp cloth that was on the bedside table, squeezed it a little between my fingers, and dabbed it across his forehead. He had been sweating profusely since I'd brought him to my house, and I couldn't help but worry that something had gone wrong.

A breeze blew into the room again, but this time I caught a scent. Multiple, actually. It was the pack. I placed the cloth back on the table and got up, rushing towards the door. I placed my ear against it, listening carefully. They had come inside already, and there was some laughter as they shut the front door. Dannon declared that he was coming upstairs to see if I was here.

As I heard the last part, I quickly stepped back, instinctively going to the bed and standing between it and the door. I narrowed my eyes at it, listening as footsteps came up the stairs. Dannon would freak out at first, but he would eventually understand. He would have to understand.

The door swung open and Dannon came in all curly hair and smiles. "Hey, Chris, you're here. It's a good thing, because..." The rest of his sentence fell away as his gaze landed on the bed, where Peter lay unmoving, covered in sweat, and with his t-shirt ripped on the one side. Dannon looked up at me, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Christian... You didn't..."

"No, of course not," I muttered, feeling the urge to pace again. "He's not dead. He's just out. I... turned him."

"You did what?!" he exclaimed, closing the door behind him. With a quieter voice, he continued. "Chris, please tell me I heard you wrong, because I think I just heard you say you turned him."

I rolled my eyes. "You heard me loud and clear, Dannon. I didn't have a choice, okay?" Or at least, that's what I'd been telling myself for the past hour. I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. "You know that I wouldn't have been able to stay away. I couldn't risk him getting hurt."

"But Christian," Dannon said softly, his eyes threatening to pop out. "You've broken the law, the treaty. We're not allowed to turn people."

"Don't you think I know that?" I groaned in exasperation. "Don't you think I've told myself that over and over already?"

Dannon scoffed. "Well apparently not enough, seeing that there's a sixteen-year-old boy lying on your bed right now, who's going to wake up with fangs and claws and a serious temper."

"Look, I know I screwed up," I snapped, turning around to glare at Dannon. "But unless you have something to say that'll be helpful in this situation, you'd better shut the hell up!"

Dannon flinched at the sound of my voice and shrunk back, sliding down against the door. He pulled his legs in and wrapped his arms around them, fear in his eyes. I sighed heavily and walked over to him, kneeling down. "I'm sorry," I muttered, placing my hand on his back, remembering my dad's lesson that physical contact helped. "I just... I just need your help, man."

After a few moments, Dannon began to calm down. I helped him up to his feet and, averting his eyes from me, he walked to the bed. He stared momentarily at Peter, and then his ears began to sharpen at the tips, tufts of hair growing near the canal. "How long since it happened?"