and you taste like pain {eiji}

[Eiji Almasy.]

In retrospect, he didn't know what he had expected only that he shouldn't have expected anything. Walking away from her, like he should have done fifteen stories up, he felt like Seattle's biggest hypocrite; after that low pot shot, he was painfully aware of the way his face smoothed over, how every slight disturbance was neatly folded away until he was nothing but an haughty, uncaring mask, another bored, aimless, spiraling trust fund kid. Every step away buried thoughts of how, after accusing her of being incapable of living, he was the one that was disconnecting himself from anything that prompted him to feel.

He sighed and closed his eyes briefly, willing every part of him to not remember how he was prone to do this, how he had done this with her; walking blindly with his hands in his pockets, how he enjoyed not knowing. Instead, he focused on how much more like himself he felt; there, walking through the hallway on some random floor, with most of himself shut off from the rest of the world, he felt more real, more familiar than he had in a while. The silence was welcoming, almost freeing, and he breathed once, twice and let the reprieve take over the emptiness he usually carried.

His feeling was short lived, and he cracked open his eyes a little, enough to stop before he ran into her but not enough to be prepared for the slap.

It hurt, and he was surprised. It was always a shock for him to discover that he wasn't all that different from everybody else. He'd never been hit before, not really, not like this, and in the midst of ow he was realizing that it was demoralizing to be normal; common, abused, and just how much of an arrogant prick he was to think that he was above her reaction to his provocation. His head was kept turned, his immaculate fringe now somewhat astray, and he was something very near left reeling; this wasn't what he expected.

He shifted a little, just that tiny bit to indicate reluctant awareness, hands still kept in pockets so she wouldn't see the way his fists clenched; refusing to touch his stinging face. His face flickered, while turned away from her before he glanced up slowly, listening to her tirade and senses of worthlessness and ultimate self-depreciation prickling before he boxed it all up and locked it away; leaving it for later, till when Elliot passed out again and he was double shots from joining her, till he could examine all his faults and understand that there was no better.

Just a monster; it took his breath away but he was something of a professional in controlling his breathing, just another tool he possessed in faking it, and he found truth and error in her words. Truth because she was right, of course she was; he couldn't let himself feel, and there was the error, because it all came to a choice. When it came to it, he had chosen not to feel anything but the very bare minimum, rather than feel everything when his everything consisted of quarter-left gin bottles and used cigarette packs; he couldn't live with both the grief surrounding him and the guilt that he harbored. He wondered then if that was the worst, if that was what made him the monster she thought him to be; he didn't know anyone else who was capable, and most importantly willing to make that sacrifice.

He watched her, silent for the most evident part and tumultuous in all the others that were deeply hidden; eyes the most clearest of green, light and bleak, sharp and iniquitous. Then, a grin tugged at his lips until he let it stretch, cover his features in a mask of atrocious amusement; teeth again but laden with charm and self-possession. Eiji took a step forward, pushing against her finger until he was in her space, head close and gaze bright, right into hers, that grin more uncultivated, more callous.

"That's me," he told her, tone jaunty, almost laughing, but there was a roughness behind it. He paused, not baited, merely studying, as if there was no other place to do it other than in front of her face. There was another moment and his expression dropped; "don't you ever forget it."
He straightened immediately, stepping around her, pace faster this time, trying to block out her voice; you don't even feel anymore.

[ĸara вelova★]

As he stood there and took it, took everything she could deliver, she felt nothing from him. He was obviously experiencing something. Unless Eiji was made of metal and computer chips, he had to feel the degradation, the anger, even the sting would provoke something akin to pain.

But she couldn't feel any of this from him; only her own feelings. Eiji had her totally absorbed, and completely distracted. Not to mention unawares. She was so accustomed to being calm and collected, so used to feeling everyone else's emotions rather than her own, that being overwhelmed with all these nerves was blocking her ability to receive anything. She couldn't even interpret; she was handicapped and didn't even know it.

As he stepped toward her and pushed her back, she scattered, dropping her hand from his chest and stumbling just a bit before she regained her balance. The jolt from the mistep partnered with her newfound intimidation had her heart racing, and she didn't like it. His words, cold, mocking again, were filled with what she hoped and worried was self-loathing, as well as narcisism. Did he want to be an insensitive ass?

He loomed over her, and she stared up at him. It was more than strange for Kara to be making eye contact, but so fiercely... it was unnatural. She was glowering at him, despite her fear for him.

"You know what?" She spat as he stepped away, and she spun around and followed him, "Maybe this is my fault, for showing you what it was to feel nothing. Maybe I should show you how to feel again!" She threatened. Word of what she'd done to Jessica had spread, not to mention that it was now a viral sensation on the internet. Eiji had to have caught wind of it. He had to know what she was capable of. And he had to know she was pissed off.

"Or you can run from me, and from whatever it is you've become. You're not the same person I met. You're not my friend," She wasn't even sure what she was doing anymore. She wanted something more than snide comments. She wanted some kind of real response from him.

"You're speaking words but saying nothing."

It was something she said to him the first day they met, when he was babbling away trying to get a response from her. Ironic, how their roles were reversed, now that they shared this common, destructive relationship.

[Eiji Almasy.]

It was almost funny, the sight of them; he'd known all those months ago that she'd be chasing him one day, he just hadn't imagined the scenario surrounding it. Eiji nodded affably to a passing bellhop, who was staring at them in no short amount of curiosity. There were two errant guests entering and leaving their rooms as well, and he let his eyes pass over each of them once, almost assessing, anything other than acknowledge the girl following him. He heard her words, her goading and her threats, and there was a slight smirk tilting upward; she could try but he'd do worse, whatever it took to push her away and keep her there.

There was barely a falter in his steps but he stopped anyway, turned at his own pace till he was staring at her, his stance casual and careless, matching the look on his face which gave away nothing; no trace of his previous heartlessness and no suspicion of a relapse. He waited, realizing it would be too easy to let his face crumble, to show her that it was killing him to repress everything, that the faceless mask he wore didn't look anything like him, that it was draining him and some days he watched the blonde in fitful sleep and wished that he could be like her, if only to have her stop and to have something in him start.

Because he was living his half life theory; everyday he was dying and Kara couldn't understand that he needed that other person in his life like she had needed him from the beginning. At that, he stopped, because what did that say about the girl before him and what he had done to her? The cycle of guilt began again, and he couldn't forget about how she was only pressing the stakes into his sides harder.

His blank expression cracked to reveal the beginnings of the grin he'd worn before. He looked different; his brilliance was diminished and he shone differently, more dull, more hollow.
"Baby," he drawled, slow and meaningful because he knew how it was to others when he said their names in that tone of voice, like a caress, like he meant it to always be the first and last thing he said; but there was a note of derisiveness because there was only one girl he referred to with that endearment, and he was teasing her, all soulful yet sneering, like he was reminding her of all that had transpired and everything that would never come to pass.

"Let it go. Move on," he suggested, or ordered, the grin in place but slighter, and he looked like the teasing boy from when they'd first met, except for the way everything had changed; he looked at her like he wasn't seeing her.
He glanced up and caught the eye of the one guest passing them, and he shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know her," he said aloud, "not personally, anyway. I already paid her but now she wants more, what can you do?"
The man looked at him in apprehension and then looked at Kara once before returning his attention to Eiji, his face screwed in distaste and he offered the boy a look of condolences before continuing on his way.

Eiji's smirk and geniality faded and the same dead stare returned.
"You're not my friend. Stop trying so hard."

[ĸara вelova★]

Kara's look of defiance curdled into a dark glower, and the more he teased her, the more violent her gaze became. When he spoke to the guests, she didn't exactly ignore him, but she didn't react by lashing out, as one might assume at this point. She wondered if it was so he could keep up the pretense that he was a snotty rich boy who treated everyone like dirt, or if he said it to demoralize her.

As if that could ever happen, Kara seethed. She had little dignity left for him to stomp on. The final blow of his words didn't have the impact they might have once upon a time. The frail brunette sneered right back.

"I never tried, Eiji," his name tasted like salt on her tongue, "I never wanted you as my friend, or don't you remember?" She spoke through her teeth, and her words came out as a hiss. She grit her teeth together so hard it made her jaw ache, and her nails bit into her palm, leaving crescent-shaped indents. She wanted to punch him this time, but it wouldn't be worth it. One, it would hurt like a bitch, and she wasn't willing to suffer any physical pain to achieve vengeance. Two, Eiji was more than likely to be aware of her violent mood and would most likely block it anyway. And three, why punch him when you could do so much more?

Seeing as how Kara couldn't feel what Eiji was feeling, and she still assumed he was a heartless bastard... And now that he'd royally pissed her off, he pushed her past her breaking point, which included breaking promises to herself, and she was more than ready to drop this asshole to his knees. However, the anger boiling within her was blocking out any other emotions she could be feeling. All the guilt she wanted him to drown in was nowhere to be found, and so when she settled into a stiff stance and forced a tidal wave of emotion upon him, all he would get was her rage.

All her fury was transfered to Eiji, all of it. It happened so quickly too; although she might be handicapped, she was getting much more efficient at administering her gift to others. This left her drained and tired, the feeling one gets after screaming their heart out in a full-out tantrum. She slumped to the side and staggered to the hallway wall for support, before she let her head roll back so she could see how Eiji reacted.

What would he do with her anger? She wondered, and as she did, she braced herself for something ugly.

[Eiji Almasy.]

Eiji was many things, but he had always done his best to, at the very least, be someone his deteriorating Mother, with the complex strand of Alzheimer's disease, could still recognize and be able to call her son.

One day in the past few months, Mae Davis had accidentally been allowed up into his penthouse while he'd been unprepared. Five minutes into her visit and she'd had Elliot driving home martini's straight from the shaker. Eiji had taken it upon himself to liken her to a dog; she was either fucking annoying, or just plain fucking. It hadn't escalated, at least not till he'd mentioned their dead father and something about how hard it must've been to love a parasitic whore - that was all he got out before Mae had pulled back her right fist and got him right on the side of his face. She pulled back for another and he dodged, no matter how much he'd wanted to break her supermodel legs and beat her damn face in with them. Elliot had come alive for a whole two minutes, kicking out her sister and stressing just how much she didn't appreciate her sister beating on her boyfriend, especially considering all the shit Eiji had to deal with from her; like walking in on her screwing the waiter in his bed at the last party he held.

A better example would be the way he responded to Corine Jonquet, a first cousin of his who was actually more of a bitch than Mae was. It had never been easy to come to terms with the fact that every single asset that was in his family's name would eventually go to him; he knew it wasn't fair to the rest of his family, who were born before him and all who had a vested interest in these possessions, unlike his cavalier disinterest, but people like Corine, Sebastian and Claudette had never really inspired the notion of sharing in him. Christmas day the last year saw Corine tear down every single wonderful picture of his mother, throwing half of them to the fire and say that there was no point in keeping reminders of her around when she wasn't likely to ever remember a single one of them ever again. He had never wanted to hit apart someone's face as much as he did then, and it took all the efforts of his father, his uncle, three cousins and Corine's husband to keep him from going back inside and doing things he would come to regret.

Later, or whenever he got so annoyed, he would understand that he could actually never put his hands on a girl with the intentions of hurting her. Just the idea of accidentally hurting Eve while they were play fighting, ignoring how she could beat him with just one hand and eyes closed, or being responsible for any of Kellan's accidents on the road, even if she was the one behind the wheel, made him chain smoke with self-repulsion. He was a drunk, a prick, too rich, too pretty, too selfish; but no matter how far gone he would find himself to be, he was good enough still, that he would never, ever resort himself to become gutless, weak.

But the rage was consuming. It took him over and left him with nothing; the faint realization that it wasn't his was gone before it could even register. He was just so angry, at everything and everyone. Most of it was incomprehensible, the burnout was fleeting, but it was there, and it ate at the last vestiges of human, of sense and rationality. His heart was going to explode, the beat of it was dull and a roar at the same time, so momentary but still continuous. A silent scream was building in his throat, and it left him raw, like open cuts that had been begging but he hadn't let it out. His eyes, previously a docile shade of green, glowed bright an unnatural color that he hadn't thought he was capable of.

Eiji's bones felt like they were breaking when he moved. He was so tense, so drawn together that it cost him to uncoil so fast. He grabbed her around the shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, the other hand pressed around her throat. He didn't see that she was tired out, only that she was the only one, that she was responsible. His grips tightened and he smashed her back again, the look on his face subtle still, but his gaze maddening, the quirk he wore brutal. And then, then the feeling of her cold skin underneath his hand became palpable. He looked into the blue of her eyes, a shade that he could never mistaken with another again, and he finally saw her. He wondered if she would be able to see the way some virtuous part of him died, how the light dimmed and how the one exhale of breath was resigned and hated.

He laughed in broken, uneven tones; God, but there was no God, he didn't deserve one. He shoved her away, the skin of his palm peeling away from her throat and he grimaced. Eiji took hurried steps back until he was against the opposite wall. He would have retched if there weren't some lasting traces of anger still there, his own this time, directed at himself, directed at her.

"God, I fucking hate you," he breathed, a thousand testaments of resentment buried in his words. He could have been trembling, he couldn't be sure, hands running through his hair and pulling; making a picture of instability. She was sick, but he was so much more at fault, so much more vile; and he needed to get away, right now, before he lost it, before he let her continue to destroy him.

[ĸara вelova★]

Usually when Kara was assaulted she gave no indication that she was bothered. Her gaze would remain dead and she would defiantly refuse to look her assailant in the eye. But when Eiji seized her and slammed her back, her head hitting the wall in a painful thud, her eyes snapped open and her lips parted for a sharp intake of breath. She was staring him in the eye, and as his fingers closed around her throat, she feared for her life. It wasn't the fear she lived with every day, knowing her days were grains of sand being siphoned through an hourglass. It was immediate fear, and although she knew Eiji enough to know that he wouldn't kill her, the thought of losing her life now had her shaking and pressing herself further into the wall, willing herself to fall right through it and out of his grasp.

She stared into his violent green eyes and felt them bore into her. His seething glare hurt more than his manicure on her neck. Kara swallowed, the stress against his hand making her wince ever so slightly. She didn't see him suffer; she was the victim again and it was all she could see, all she could feel. Absorbed in her own panic, when he released her, she dropped to the floor of the hallway. She clutched her throat and massaged it gently, and already her pale skin darkened to outline what the boy had done.

"You're hurting my feelings," Kara spat, the sarcasm clinging to the rasp of her voice. She picked herself up with a little difficulty, still holding her neck tenderly. But she straightened to her fullest height and stared at him from where he stood across from her. It looked like she was about to say something, but instead she turned and stalked down the hall.

"Fuck you," was her goodbye, and with that she vanished into thin air, as though teleporting. The reality was, she was too tired to stomp out of the hotel, so she summoned the rest of her energy and dedicated it to her invisibility. She slowly sunk to the floor and crawled to the side of the hall where she curled up and closed her eyes.

Just leave, she thought, exhausted. The frail girl didn't realize she was shivering until her knuckled rattled against the carpet by her cheek.