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This is for an rp... blah blah blah.... Please read it, but read part 1 first.

~~~

The neighbor finally let go of Adriyan, letting him run to his father. “Daddy, Daddy!” he wailed, throwing himself down on his father’s chest and wrapping his arms around his lifeless neck. Tears fell in streams down the boy’s cheeks, and he felt his heart shattering into pieces. “You can’t die! You can’t!!” Adriyan sobbed. “You just can’t….”

~~~

The five year old was wearing all black, clothing bought by that kindly neighbor. She and several others who had witnessed the fire had passed him around for a week, scrounging up some hand-me-downs that would fit him. He hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since they had taken his father away; he had done nothing but hug Patches to him and cry. Now he was on a plane, alone, with a sign around his neck stating his name. He was being sent to his mother, someone who hadn’t wanted anything to do with him since before his birth.

He stared out the window, his mouth a small, tight line that occasionally wavered. He fought the urge- he didn’t want anyone to see him cry. Adriyan hugged his arms to his chest. ’I wish I could hold Patches… I wish I didn’t have to see that lady… I wish Daddy didn’t die.’

Adriyan placed his face in his hands, trying to hold the tears in. But water is very difficult to stop with nothing more than your hands.

After what seemed like years, the plane landed back in the same city Adriyan had been born in. The plane emptied rather quickly, but the boy didn’t move. A blonde flight attendant, who was checking for any abandoned luggage, walked briskly down the aisles. She gave a start when she saw the child leaning against the window, knees held to his chest.

“I’m sorry, it’s time to get off of the plane…” When she got no response, she reached out and shook his shoulder. “It’s time to unload.”

Adriyan slowly lifted his head, blinking sleepily. He looked blankly at the flight attendant, then slowly stood up. He grabbed the small plastic box with holes punched into it- bearing Patches- and his small bag.

The child felt lost in the rush of the airport. He sat on a bench, holding the box with Patches in it on his lap and his only other possessions in the bag at his feet. His expression was vacant, with tear streaks running down his cheeks. After awhile, a stranger came and took him ‘home’, to meet a stranger unwillingly bearing the title “Mother.”

The only thing he had in common with the woman standing on the porch, looking coldly at him, was his black hair. Indeed, he looked like a small, black haired version of Audrei. Adriyan looked at her, somewhat curious- after all, who wouldn’t be?

“What did he end up naming you?” Lea had an air of nonchalance about her, as if she didn’t care.

“…Adriyan.” He mumbled.

“Hm.” Lea scrutinized the boy. “You look too much like him. I told him if he didn’t keep his end of the bargain, I’d throw you away.”

Adriyan met Lea’s eyes. “But Daddy died! It’s not his fault!” Tears quavered in his eyes, threatening to spill.

Lea glared disdainfully at her son. “Audrei said he woud take you away, and I’d never have to see either of you again. I’m seeing you right now, mongrel.”

Adriyan felt almost as if he’d been struck. He picked up a sharp rock he found at his feet, and hurled it at the woman, striking her on the head. She stumbled back, then angrily ran towards the child. Lea grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and began hitting him, hard and repeatedly. “You spoiled brat of a child!” she shrieked.

The boy did the only thing he could think of: he bit down on her hand with all of his strength. He heard her screaming and cursing at him, he felt her other hand beating on the back of his head, over and over. He felt his teeth pierce her skin, and warm, coppery blood filled his mouth. Still he kept biting, feeling strangely… exhilarated. Adriyan bit down harder, drowning out his mother’s shrieks and vain attempts to fight back.

All too soon for Adriyan, the stranger who had brought him here pulled him away, pinning the five-year-old’s arms behind him. Adriyan glared daggers at his mother, her blood dripping from his mouth and down his chin. “I hate you!” he shrieked at her.

Clutching her injured and bleeding hand to her chest, Lea glared back. She then addressed the stranger. “Take it away. I never want to see that beast again.” She turned away, black hair swirling around her shoulders. “It looks too much like he did.”

“Go to hell!” Adriyan shouted after his mother. The woman stiffened for a moment, then walked into the house and slammed the door behind her.

~~~

The stranger had taken Adriyan to an orphanage, a home for children who were unwanted or had no one alive to want them.

Over time, many children tried to get close to Adriyan, who still refused to wear colors. All he would wear was black and white. In an effort to keep them away, he let the dark aspects of his personality take over, one of them being his growing fascination with blood.

When he saw it, he wanted to taste it. When he tasted it, he wanted to see more. Which caused him to want to taste even more. The sight, smell, taste of it brought him back to that day he had bitten his mother. Afterwards, he had been brought aside and told that he had broken a bone in her hand and severed some of the muscles, which brought him great satisfaction.

In time, the children generally learned to keep their distance. If they didn’t, he would bite, scratch, or anything that would draw blood. Actually, he had stabbed a few of the children with sewing needles and safety pins, and two he had gouged with scissors- well, one of them was only cut, but that was beside the point. Any time one wandered too close or bothered him, he would show off the butcher knife and two steak knives he kept under his mattress.

Adriyan knew the children were afraid of him, that they whispered about him, that the adults were wary and always kept an eye on him. He also knew that they should. Sometimes, he had to admit to himself, he wasn’t truly aware of what he was doing. It just happened. The girl he had stabbed with the scissors, well… she had snatched Patches from him. Patches, the reason his father was dead and he was in this God-forsaken orphanage. And it had just happened, as a guttural instinct, the same way he had thrown the rock at Lea- he refused to call her ‘mother’- and bit her. If he was properly provoked… God only knew what he was capable of.

But then there was that one boy, the thin black-haired pale boy with blood-red eyes. He hadn’t been afraid when Adriyan had tried to scare him away. He hadn’t listened to the other children’s warnings- only later did Adriyan realize that they had been afraid of this boy too. He had just laughed and picked up one of the knives by the blade, giggling insanely when it cut his hand. Adriyan had immediately grabbed the other boy’s hand and licked at some of the blood, hardly realizing his behavior until the smaller boy’s giggles became more crazed.

And the two had a bond. Before long, the names “Valentine and Adriyan” became as one, striking terror into the hearts of the other children and the falsely kind caretakers. They became an omen: when something bad happened, they became the scapegoat. And they didn’t care.

Valentine Claudius and Adriyan Vynce-Patrik were quite the pair. Two sadistic masochists, always wearing black and occupying dark corners and other reclusive places. That was what they enjoyed the best.

It was they who had comforted the other in their times of need and loneliness, and they alone that knew these times existed.

It was Valentine who had put all of the safety pins through Adriyan’s ears. It was he who had helped center the safety pin before stabbing it through the center of Adriyan’s bottom lip.

It was Adriyan who had done the same for Valentine’s ears.

It was Valentine who had tattooed the spade right under Adriyan’s left collarbone.

It was Adriyan who had tattooed the upside-down club under Valentine’s remaining eye.

(Of course, these events were much frowned upon by their elders and peers, but since when did they care? They had each other.)

It was they who celebrated each birthday, Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth, and Dia des Mortes together.

And it was they who looked forward to their thirteenth birthdays, when they would officially be teenagers and have lived thirteen years. But this was not to be.

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