DUDE, THAT'S MY PHANTOM.

━━━ i. moving bodies.

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chapter one.
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               He sees moving bodies all around him. That's all they are to him; bodies. Moving closer and closer to their destinations, the dancing and smiling and euphoria injected in their bloodstream won't last, it's only a train stop before their pummelling to their last stop. Embraced by death's cold lips, breathing in their life.

His. . . pack mates made the decision to stroll inside the lion's den, on unfamiliar grounds of Mexican hunters in the form of a lively nightclub, it's like they're attracted to death. Like, they enjoy feeling his breath on their eyelids as they fight for lives, again. He knows he couldn't stay away, where death is bound to be Blaise trails behind like a shadow.

"What are you doing?" Scott inquired, breaking him out mind when his fingers attempted to touch him but when through him. "Stop it, people are going to notice."

"I can't help it." Blaise responded, eyes squinting at the colored lights pointing at his direction brief before moving, nearly forgetting he recently piercing his left ear so he had to touch the right, ignoring the group of friends shouting at one another to hear each other's words. He couldn't control his abilities sometimes, it's not his fault he can feel it slipping through the cracks trying to grab him by the shoulders. "They think partying and drinking will make them forget about their ending because the patriarchal deemed it fun. It's fucking pathetic."

     Scott glimpsed at him shifting in his seat, his finger tapping the head of the rough maroon loveseat noticing Blaise is oblivious to the lingering glimpses sent his way by girls and boys strolling by, too busy glaring at the bright lights and scent of hot sweat mixed with a bundle of perfumes and alcohol strolling in his nose. He doesn't want to be here, that Scott knows. Everyone in the nightclub probably does too. "So, you think going ghost in a club full of hunters will make them change their views?"

     His nose wrinkled at the term, drifting his gaze the door. "It's not like anyone notices me. I've been dead before, it isn't anymore different than being invisible."

     "But you're not anymore." Scott reminds, turning his body to face him, furrowing his eyebrows. "You're alive, Blaise, and it's time you start enjoying it more."

Blaise bites his inner cheek, choosing not to answer him. It's not as simple as he says, he's been shoved into a corner forced to feel the death of the supernaturals that die. It's not easy to ignore them.

"Ready?" Scott asked, his eyes spotting men in black heading their way from the corner of his eye. Blaise nods, pushing himself up and looses his balance forgetting he has to move his feet, miraculously dodging the baton aimed for his head. He goes 'ghost' ( as Scott calls ) and punched his nuts, the hunter sucked in a breath crossing his legs not excepting the sucker punch up his jaw also known as the knock out button. His mouth makes weird shapes shaking out his burning throbbing fingers to avoid making noise, you'd think his hands be used to punching people by now.