The Night After Sunrise

Notes: This is a solo post that I wrote for our Vampire: the Masquerade RP. I'm not including the previous scene as it included other writers, but here is a summary of the events that lead to this:
After a few nights of unsucessful hunts, Niko thought he finally struck some luck in the form of a drunk handsome college boy. Strange things happened after feeding on the boy, rendering both of them unconscious and trapping them in some sort of dreamscape located in an abandoned schoolyard. When Niko awoke, despite hunting somewhat early in the night, it was very close to Dawn. Niko panicked and tried everything he could to the point of losing control to Frenzy trying to get into the building to escape the rising sun. He burnt his entire bloodpool trying to save himself to no avail.

Both he and the college boy were found in the same alley where they'd originally collpased together by a 'Librarian'. Niko was badly burnt by the sun already, the lack of blood and aggravated damage causing him to slip into torpor. So when night fell, he didn't wake up. Ari, another vampire, helped transport him to a safe locale, and his kreweleader, Jack, fed him enough blood so that he could reawaken. Thankfully, despite being a Brujah, he did not instantly go into Hunger Frenzy. Unable to consume regular blood bags, they had to call in a favour to Sloane, who brought the alcohol laced blood that Niko could keep down.

So the beginning of this solo story is just after Jack and Ari are leaving, Niko is somewhat drunk from all the blood he had to drink to replenish himself.

When that door closed behind Jack and Ari leaving, the sound of it clicking shut seemed to echo so much louder in the Brujah’s mind. Weary eyes stared at the door for what seemed like an age, making sure those two weren't going to suddenly return.

And when he was sure he’d remain alone, the dam finally began to break.

Taking a deep but unneeded breath, Niko slumped back against the bed he’d been in, pale blue tinged with red looking down at all the bandages and bits of burned flesh peeking out here and there.

Crimson began to obscure his vision, only to quickly spill over and stain the bandages on his face.

I was just... completely helpless, lying there as the sun rose.
If they’d been just a bit later, they would have found only an ash pile.

It’s just luck that I’m even... “alive.”

Only... luck.

Face buried in his hands, the sound of his ugly sobbing momentarily filled the room while the Brujah fought to come to terms with that morning’s brush with Death. He’d tried to fight against it, to not waste even a tiny amount of blood unnecessarily, but the emotions were just too overwhelming. Those waves of intense dread, fear, and panic as the sky lightened- that hopeless certainty that he was going to perish- left scars on his psyche. The loss of control over himself to his Beast haunted him.

On top of it all, the college kid he’d been trapped in that ‘dream’ with was dead. And he was alive. Why? How did he survive but the kid didn’t? Why did he feel guilt for something he knew that he wasn’t responsible for?

Maybe if I’d just not fed from him...
I could have gone another night without...

But what had he even done wrong? The kid had seemed like your average drunk college kid. He’d trailed him for a length of time and nothing seemed unusual or odd. Was it something he just didn’t notice?

...Will it even be safe to hunt the streets again?

And then, Niko’s thoughts drifted back to the pair he was bonded to, to him oh so arrogantly reassuring them that they didn’t need to worry about him. He felt like such an idiot.

Had they noticed yet that something had happened? That something was wrong? He always messaged them at least once a night. Sometimes just an emoji, sometimes a teasing selfie, other times asking whose place they were going to that night.

They had to have noticed by then... right?

But he hated that he’d been right. That it turned out he’d had good reason for the faint gnawing sense of worry that something bad was waiting around the corner. There was nothing more that he wanted than to be in their arms, but even that feeling was tainted by self-doubt and conflict.

He didn’t want to be seen like this. He didn’t want them to worry about him. He never wanted them to have any reason to worry about him. It tore at him; he was supposed to be the strong one, the one to protect both of them, and yet...

That only sent his mind thinking about those final moments again. How terrified he’d been. How hard he’d railed against that door and how much blood he’d wasted against something that was never going to budge. The feeling of that intense and agonising searing pain of his flesh burning as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Even with his minute level of Fortitude, it could only soak so much of the damage.

As his Beast had taken over, he had simply came to accept his inevitable death. But now he’d remembered something he’d seen, though he was unsure when, or how, or if his brain was simply inserting a false memory.

I know it was a hallucination as I was dying...
It had to have been.
A false vision.
But I swear I saw him.
Blonde hair shining like spun golden silk in the sun.
Beckoning me to join him.

He was sure that’s all it had been- a hallucination, right? Some fleeting image before his existence had disappeared into the darkness of torpor? It made him wonder whether his brain had thought it up on its own, or if it was a sign that Mikhail really was dead.

As time passed, the tendrils of those negative thoughts seemed to be digging deeper into the Brujah. Thank fuck no one was there to see him like this.

It wasn’t only despair that was brewing in his mind then. There was anger riding in the undercurrent. Anger that he had nowhere to direct. He was used to solving problems with his fists, but here... There was nothing to punch, nothing to rail against, nothing to even scream at until he went hoarse. He desperately wanted someone to blame, someone to explain to him why the fuck any of this had happened... but there was simply nothing.

The frustration and anger made him want to punch something at least, but he was still too weak and in pain to even attempt it anyway. And more than he hated feeling vulnerable, he loathed feeling weak.

Shame was the feeling attached to that thought. Shame that Jack, a person he’d wanted to impress, had seen him in such a frail and weak state. That Jack had to waste blood to bring him out of torpor. Why would Warpath want someone as weak as him now? How could he be trusted to help protect the city when the simple act of hunting a mere college kid had nearly ended him?

If it hadn’t been for everyone else, he wouldn’t still be there. It was to their credit that he was still alive, not his own.

I owe those people Ari mentioned my life.
I owe Jack my life.
I owe Sloane.
I owe Kieran.
Probably owe Ari as well.
Who the fuck else do I owe now?
I hate to owe anyone anything...

...Why me?

It was hard to tell how long he’d been crying and stewing in his own distressed thoughts. No matter how hard he’d tried to hide it, he wasn’t okay; he was very far from okay.

The rest of that quiet night seemed to stretch out so long.

At multiple points throughout the night, Niko questioned himself on whether it had been such a great idea to refuse going home, to refuse calling the two halves of his heart.

Eventually, the sobs faded, and the flow of the red rivers down his cheeks slowed and came to a stop as well. But the dark thoughts continued to swirl in his brain right up until the feeling of the pull of Dawn nearly sent him into a panic again.

Nearly.

But this time, as he slipped into his daytime sleep, he was safe...
No sun, no excruciating pain, no panic, no frenzy. But he was alone.